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Gor. No more, but that I know, the more one fickens, the worse at ease he is : and that he, that wants mony, 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.
Clo. Such a one is a natural philosophier. Waft ever in Court; shepherd?
Cor. No, truly. Clo. Then thou art damn'd. Cor. Nay, I hope Clo. Truly, thou art damnd, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
Cor. For not being at Court? your reason.
Clo. Why, if thou never wast at Court, thou never faw'it good manners ; if thou never faw'lt good maniners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is fin, and sin is damnation: thou art in a parlous ftate, shepherd.
Cor. Nor 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 falute not at the Court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesie would be uncleanly, if Courtiers were shepherds.
Clo. Instance, briefly ;' come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fels, you know, are greafie.
Clo. Why, do not your Courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as whoisome as the sweat of a man? Thallow, shallow; a better instance, I say: come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.
Clo. Your lips will feel them the Tooner. Shallow again a more founder instance, come.
Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss car ? che Courrier's hands are perfumed with ciyer.
Clo. Most shallow man ! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed! learn of the wile and perpend; civet is of a baser birth than tar; the very uncleanly. flux of a cat. Mend the instance, 1hepherd.
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me ; I'll rest.
Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? 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.
Clo. 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 a bawd to a bell-weather; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match.. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou should'It 'scape.
Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganymed, my new mistress's brother.
Enter Rosalind, with a paper.
Rof. From the east to western Inde,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
But the face of Rosalind. Clo. I'll rhime you so, eight years together ; .dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted : it is the right butter-women's rank to market.
Rof. Qut, fool!
(14) If a hart doth lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
Muft find love's prick, and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you intect your self with them?
Rof. Peace, you dull fool, I found thein on a tree. Clo. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Rof. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff ic with a medler ; then it will be the earliest fruit i'th' country for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medler.
Clo. You have said ; but whether wisely or no, let the Forest judge.
Enter Celia, with a writing.
For it is unpeopled ? No;
That Mall civil sayings show.
Runs bis erring pilgrimage ; (14) If a Hart doth lack a bind, &c.] The Poet, in arraigning this Species of Versification, feems not only to satirize the Mode, that so much prevail'd in his Time, of writing Sonnets and Madrigals ; but tasitly to fneer the Levity of Dr. Thomas Ladge, a grave Physician in Queen Elizabeth's Reign, who was very feruil of Paitoral Songs ; and who wrote a whole Book of Poems in the Praise of his Mifress, whom he walls Rosalind.
That the Aretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend;
Or at every sentence end,
Teaching all, that read, to know,
Heaven would in little show.
That one body mould be fill'd
Nature presently distilld
Sad Lucretia's modeffy.
By heav'nly fynod was devis’d;
To have the Touches dearest priz'd.
And I to live and die ber Jave. Rof. O most gentle Jupiter ! - what tedious homily of love have you wearied your Parishioners withal, and never cry'd, have patience, good people?
Cel. How now back-friends !" shepherd, go off a little: go with him, firrah.
Clo. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; tho' not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
[Exeunt Cor, and Clown. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?
Rof. O yes, I heard them all, and more too ; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.
Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.
Rof. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and cherefore stood lamely in the verse.
Cel. But didst thou hear without wondring, how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon these trees?
Rof. I was seven of the nine days out of wonder, before you came : for, look here, what I found on a palm-tree ; I was never so be-rhimed since Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?
Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour ?
Rof. I pr’ythee, who?
Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.
Rof. Nay, but who is it?
Rof. Nay, I pr’ythee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping
ROS: (15) Odd's, my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition ? (16) One inch of delay more is a South-sea off discovery. I pr’ythee, tell me, who is it ; quickly, and speak apace; I would thou could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or
(15) Good my complexion, dost thou think &c. -] This is a Mode of Expression, that I could not reconcile to Common Sense; I have therefore ventur'd by a slight Change to read, Odd's, my complexion ! So, in another Scene of this Comedy, Rosalind again says ;
Odd's, my little Life! And, again ;
-'Odd's, my Will ! Her Love is not the Hare that I do hunt. (16) One Inch of Delay more is a South-sea of Discovery ;] A South-sea of Discovery. : This is itark Nonsense; We must read off Discovery. i. e. from Discovery. “ If you delay me one Inch of Time longer, I “ fhall think this Secret as far from Discovery as the South-sea is.'