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After a voyage,-he hath strange places eramm'd
A FOOL'S LIBERTY OF SPEECH.
very foolishly, although he smart,
APOLOGY FOR SATIRE
Why, who cries out on pride,
says his bravery* is not on my cost,
A TENDER PETITION.
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church;
THE SEVEN AGES.
All the world's a stage.
INGRATITUDE. A SONG.
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Then, heigh, ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
As benefits forgot:
As friends remember'd* not.
ACT III. A SHEPHERD'S PHILOSOPHY. I know, the more one sickens, the worse at erse 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 nature or art, may complain. of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. CHARACTER OF AN HONEST AND SIMPLE SHEPHERD
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.
DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER.
A lean cheek; which you have not; a blue eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit;f which you have not; a beard neglected; which you have not:--but I pardon you for that; for, simply, your havingt in beard is a younger brother's revenue: Then your hose should be ungarter * Remembering † A spirit averse to conversation
ed, your bonet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you
demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man: you are rather point-device* in your accoutrements; as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any other.
REAL PASSION DISSEMBLED.
Think not I love him, though I ask for him; Tis but a peevisht boy: yet he talks well; But what care I for words? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear, It is a pretty youth: not very pretty: But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes
him: He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall; His leg is but so, so; and yet 'tis well: There was a pretty redness in his lip; A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the differ-'
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask.
now I am remember'd, scorn’d at me:
ACT IV. THE VARIETIES OF MELANCHOLY. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical;
* Over-exact. † Silly.
nor the courtiers, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice;* nor the lover's, which is all of these. MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES.
Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando, men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey; I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a byen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.
CUPID'S PARENTAGE. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love.
OLIVER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS DANGER WHEN
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd The opening of his mouth; but suddenly Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush: under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis The royal disposition of that beast To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.