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Did steal behind him, as he lay along

Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish : and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

DUKE. But what said Jaques ? Did he not moralize this spectacle ? LORD. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; "Poor deer," quoth he, "thou makʼst a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much." Then, being alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends ; "'Tis right,” quoth he, "thus misery doth part The flux of company." Anon, a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him: "Ay," quoth Jaques, "Sweep on you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?"

Gratitude in an Old Servant.

I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I saved Which I did store to be

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When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you: Let me be your servant :
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty:
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors to my blood.

A Lover described.

O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily;
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not loved:

Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.

Jaques' description of a Fool.

A fool, a fool!————I met a fool i̇' the forest, A motley fool;-a miserable world!

As I do live by food, I met a fool;

Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,

And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,

In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.

"Good-morrow, fool," quoth I; "No, sir," quoth


“ Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune :” And then he drew a dial from his poke; And looking on it with lack lustre eye,

Says, very wisely, "It is ten o'clock :

Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags;
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale !" When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
And I did laugh sans intermission,

An hour by his dial.-O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.*

A Fool's Liberty of Speech.

I must have liberty

Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on him I please: for so fools have:

And they that are most galled with my folly

They most must laugh: And why, sir, must they so?

The why is plain as way to parish church:

He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to seem senseless of the bob; † if not,
The wise man's folly is anatomised
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.

A gentle Petition.

But whate'er you are,
That in this desert inaccessible,


Alluding to the parti-coloured garment worn by the ancient

+ Bob-hit, blow.

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have look'd on better days,

If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church :

If ever sat at any good man's feast ;
If ever from your eye-lids wiped a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.

The Seven Ages of Man.

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 woful 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 lined,
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

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 everything.

Ingratitude. A Song.

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

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.

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! etc.


A Shepherd's Philosophy.

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 sheep and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; That he, that hath learned no wit by


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