thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks.

THE WISDOM OF FOOLING.

Jaques. A fool, a fool!—I met a fool i' 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 he,

'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.
Duke. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a courtier ;

And says, if ladies be but young and fair,

They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,

Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms.-O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke. Thou shalt have one.

Jaq. It is my only suit ;

Provided that you weed your better judgments

Of all opinion that grows rank in them,
That I am wise. I must have liberty

Withal, as large a charter as the wind,

To blow on whom 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 anatomized

Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave

To speak my mind, and I will through and through

Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

A TRUE LABOURER.

Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck.

PRIDE UNIVERSAL.

Jaques. Why, who cries out on pride, That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the very very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name, When that I say the city-woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? Who can come in, and say that I mean her, When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? Or what is he of basest function,

That says his bravery is not on my cost (Thinking that I mean him), but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech?

There then; how, what then? Let me see wherein

My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man.

THE PLAY Of Life.

Duke. We are not all alone unhappy : This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in.

Jaques. 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 schoolboy, 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' eyebrow. 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,