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Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly :
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : 180

Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
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.
Heigh-ho! sing, &c.
Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, 190
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 loved 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.

SCENE I. A room in the palace.
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
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is ;

Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands and all things which thou dost call thine
Worth seizure do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth
Of what we think against thee.

Oli. O that your highness knew my heart in this !
I never loved my brother in my life.

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 :

And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,

Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway.
O Rosalind ! these trees shall be my books

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character;
That every eye which in this forest looks

Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where,
Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree
The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. [Exit. 10

Enter Corin and TOUCHSTONE. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone.

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 re. spect 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 it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd ?

21 7 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.

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. 40

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.


humorously food

Touch. Your lips will feel then the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance, come.

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. Mend the instance, shepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me : I'll rest. 61

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. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.

Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading.

From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures fairest lined
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind

But the fair of Rosalind. Touch. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted : it is the right butterwomen's rank to market.

Ros. Out, fool !
Touch. For a taste :

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind ;


Then to cart with Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find

90 Must find love's prick and Rosalind. 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.
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

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.

101 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:
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,

That shall civil sayings show :
Some, how brief the life of man

Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span

Buckles in his sum of age;
Some, of violated vows

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend :
But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write,

Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite

Heaven would in little show.

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