AS YOU LIKE IT.

Well said that was laid on with a trowel.

My pride fell with my fortunes.

Cel. Not a word?

Act i. Sc. 2.

Ibid.

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Act i. Sc. 3.
O how full of briars is this working-day world!

Ibid.

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Ibid.

We'll have a swashing and a, martial outside.

Ibid.

Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running

"Poor deer," quoth he, "thou mak'st a testament

As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

To that which had too much."

Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens.

Ibid.

Ibid.

And He that doth the ravens feed,

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,

Be comfort to my age!

Act ii. Sc. 3.

[As You Like It continued.

For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.

Act ii. Sc. 3.

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly.

Ibid.

O good old man! how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion.

Under the greenwood tree.

Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 5.

And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms.

Act ii. Sc. 7.

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."

Ibid.

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.

Ibid.

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.

Motley's the only wear.

Ibid.

Ibid.

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

As You Like It continued.]

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

In mangled forms.

Act ii. Sc. 7.

I must have liberty

Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please.

The why is plain as way to parish church.

Ibid.

Ibid.

If ever you have look'd on better days;
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church.

Ibid.

And wiped our eyes

Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd.

All the world's a stage

Ibid.

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.
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' 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 lin'd,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

[As You Like It continued.

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 spectacle 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— -every-
thing.
Act ii. Sc. 7.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude.

Ibid.

The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she,

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? Ibid.

O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping.

Ibid.

I do desire we may be better strangers. Ibid. Time travels in divers paces with divers perI'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.

sons.

Ibid.

Every one fault seeming monstrous, till his

fellow-fault came to match it.

Ibid.

Neither rhyme nor reason.

Ibid.

As You Like It continued.]

I would the gods had made thee poetical.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

Down on your knees,

And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's Act iii. Sc. 5.

love.

It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. Act iv. Sc. I.

I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad.

Ibid.

Or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.

Ibid.

Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit.

Ibid.

Men have died from time to time, and worms

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.

Act v. Sc. I.

No sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner sighed, but they asked one another the reason.

I 'cud,' Dyce, Staunton.

Act v. Sc. 2.