Jag.
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

8

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

"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,] Beards 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.

7

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.

modern instances,] Modern means trite, common.

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
As yet, to question you about your fortunes:-
Give us some musick; and, good cousin, sing.

Although thy breath be rude.

you

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.

• Thou art not so unkind, &c.] That is, thy action is not so contrary to thy kind, or to human nature, as the ingratitude of

man.

1 Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,], It is the opinion of the best commentators, that this can only be tortured into a meaning. Dr.

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.2

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.