Boughs

As You Like It, [2.7.108-118]. Orlando. “But whate’er you are/ that in this desert inaccessible,/ 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/ if ever from your eyelids wip’d 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.”