Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, And then the justice, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. 150 160 Duke S. Welcome. Set down your 'venerable burthen, And let him feed. Orl. I thank you most for him. So had you need: Duke S. Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes. Ami. SONG. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. 170 Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: 180 This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp Heigh-ho! sing, &c. Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, Thou art right welcome as thy master is. Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, ACT III. SCENE I. A room in the palace. 190 [Exeunt. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER. Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be : But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument 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 Oli. O that your highness knew my heart in this! I never loved my brother in my life. 10 Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands: Do this expediently and turn him going. SCENE II. The forest. Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: [Exeunt. SCENE II.] With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. [Exit. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touch. stone? Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect As it is a spare life, look it is not in the court, it is tedious. you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty Hast any philosoin it, it goes much against my stomach. phy in thee, shepherd? Cor. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means and content is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. - Wast ever in court, shepherd? Cor. No, truly. Touch. Then thou art damned. Cor. Nay, I hope. Touch. Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. 40 Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands: that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. Is Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. again. A more sounder instance, come. 60 Shallow Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. Touch. Most shallow man! thou worms-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. 71 Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest. Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw. Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. Touch. That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-weather, and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crookedpated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape. Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading. Ros. From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, All the pictures fairest lined Are but black to Rosalind. Let no fair be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind. 100 Touch. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: it is the right butter-women's rank to market. Ros. Out, fool! Touch. For a taste: If a hart do lack a hind, They that reap must sheaf and bind; Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind. He that sweetest rose will find Must find love's prick and Rosalind. 110 This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them? Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. 120 Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar then it will be the earliest fruit i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. 130 Enter CELIA, with a writing. Ros. Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. Cel. [Reads] Why should this a desert be? For it is unpeopled? No; That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: Some, of violated vows 140 150 |