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It was Greek to me. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure. O unhappy youth! Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives. It beggared all description. The game is up. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. This is no place; this house is but a butchery; Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. The King's a beggar, now the play is done. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. 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. 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 And whistles in his sound. But look to it: Find out thy brother wheresoe'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. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Take but good note, and you shall see in him The triple pillar of the world transform'd Into a strumpet's fool. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. But if thy love were ever like to mine, As sure I think did never man love so, How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the Duke. 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. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?

To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself 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 sequest'red stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. 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. Most shallow man! thou worm's meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar- the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

I must be cruel only to be kind. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay; He saves my labour by his own approach. 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 we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags; 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine; And after one 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.' At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. 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. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?

He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is no place; this house is but a butchery; Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. 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. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw. I have not slept one wink. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son- Yet not the son; I will not call him son Of him I was about to call his father- Hath heard your praises; and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie, And you within it. If he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off; I overheard him and his practices. It is my only suit, Provided that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion that grows rank in them That I am wise. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. More, more, I prithee, more. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. ut were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present.

At one fell swoop But this denoted a foregone conclusion: Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay; As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. But come thy ways, we'll go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent We'll light upon some settled low content.` And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? What, you look merrily! In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life.

The game is up. The wheel is come full circle. The course of true love never did run smooth. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can nowhere find him like a 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. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfum'd with civet.

The King's a beggar, now the play is done. 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.

I must be cruel only to be kind. But this denoted a foregone conclusion: No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. But if thy love were ever like to mine, As sure I think did never man love so, How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. You have a nimble wit; I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.

The King's a beggar, now the play is done. 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. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.