_Duke S._ What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, More than your force move us to gentleness. _Orl._ I almost die for food; and let me have it. _Duke S._ Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. 105 _Orl._ Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you: I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are That in this desert inaccessible, 110 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look’d on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church, If ever sat at any good man’s feast, 115 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. _Duke S._ True is it that we have seen better days, 120 And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church And sat at good men’s feasts and wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender’d: And therefore sit you down in gentleness And take upon command what help we have 125 That to your wanting may be minister’d. _Orl._ Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn And give it food. There is an old poor man, Who after me hath many a weary step 130 Limp’d in pure love: till he be first sufficed, Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit. _Duke S._ Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. _Orl._ I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! 135 [_Exit._ _Duke S._ Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.