Jaq.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick' in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth

age

shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

8

5 His acts being seven ages ] I have seen, more than once, an old print, entitled, The Stage of Man's Life, divided into seven ages. As emblematical representations of this sort were formerly stuck up, both for ornament and instruction, in the generality of houses, it is more probable that Shakspeare took his hint from thence, than from Hippocrates or Proclus, who are quoted by Mr. Malone. HENLEY.

6 — and bearded like the pard,] Beurds of different cut were appropriated in our author's time to different characters and professions The soldier had one fashion, the judge another, the bishop different from both, &c.

- sudden and quick —] Lest it should be supposed that these epithets are synonymous, it is necessary to be observed that one of the ancient senses of sudden, is violent.

7

And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable

burden, And let him feed. Orl.

I thank you most for him.
Adam. So had you need;
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

Duke S. Welcome, fall to; I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes :-
Give us some musick; and, good cousin, sing.

Amiens sings.

SONG.

1.

1

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkindo

As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

Then, heigh, ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly,

II.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.”
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c.

Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's

son, As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were; And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn’d, and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke, That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune, Go to my cave and tell me.—Good old man, Thou art right welcome as thy master is: Support him by the arm.--Give me your hand, And let me all

your

fortunes understand. [Exeunt.

Johnson paraphrases thus:-Thou winter wind, thy rudeness gives the less pain, as thou art not seen, as thou art an enemy that dost not brave us with thy presence, and whose unkindness is therefore not aggravated by insult.

As friend remember'd not.] Remember'd for remembering.

2

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and

Attendants. Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that can

not be:

But were I not the better part made mercy,
I should not seek an absent argumento
Of my revenge, thou present: But look to it;
Find out thy brother, whereso'er he is;
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory:
Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine,
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands;
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth,
Of what we think against thee.

Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd my brother in

my

life. Duke F. More villain thou.—Well, push him out

of doors;
And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent upon his house and lands:
Do this expediently, and turn him going.

[Exeunt.

3 — an absent argument —] An argument is used for the contents of a book, thence Shakspeare considered it as meaning the subject, and then used it for subject in yet another sense.

* Make an extent-] “ To make an extent of lands,” is a legal phrase, from the words of a writ, (ertendi facius,) whereby the sheriff is directed to cause certain lands to be appraised to their full extended value, before he delivers them to the person entitled under a recognizance, &c, in order that it may be certainly known how soon the debt will be paid. - MALONE.

- expediently,] That is, expeditiously.

5

SCENE II.

The Forest.

Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.
Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:
And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,

Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
That every eye, which in this forest looks,

Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where.
Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree,
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. [Exit.

Enter Corin and TOUCHSTONE. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone?

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?

Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends:- That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: That good pasture makes fat