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...Heigh ho! fing, heigh ho! unto the green holly;
Mof friendship is feigning; moft loving mere folly: di Therr heigh ho, the holly ! TOGA I condiited This life is most jolly.
od 10.1.] ont ainsi Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,d knuotr.1 MB That dok not bite fo nigh5797922979 13: W As benefits forgot:
at siw tu Tho' thou the waters warp. 11
į vei i Thy iting is not fo sharp!
Pernilari, As friend remembred not.. Heigh ho! fing, &c. Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's fong. As you have whisper'd faithfully you were; in b1A And as mine eye doth his effigies witness,
19 FIT Most truly limn'd, and living in your face,.. to. 3' <I Be truly welcome hither. I'm the Duke, That loy'd 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 underttand. Exeunt! 20202020202020202020
But were I not, the better part made mercy,
Within this twelvemonth; or turn thou no more
Oli. Oh, that your Highness knew my heart in this: I never lov'd my brother in my life.
Duke. More villain thou. Well, put 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. [Exeuntó. SCENE changes to the Forest.
Enter Orlando. Orla.
And thou thrice crowned Queen of nightfutvey, With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. o Rofalind! 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.
Enter Corin and Clown.. Car. And how like you this shepherd's life, Mr. Toucha
Clo. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itfelf, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is folitary, 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 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 ft diach. Haft any philosophy in thee, shepherd.
Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one fickens: the worse at ease he is : And that he, that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends. Thasthe property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: That; good pasture makes fat theep; and that a great èaufe of the night, is lack of the fun: That he, that hash; learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain of good: breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.
Clo. Sach a one is a natural philofopher... Waft ever in. court, shepherd?
Cor. No, truly. Clo. Then thou art damn'd. Gor. Nay, I hope Clo. Truly, thou art damn’d, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
Cor. For not being at court? your reafon.
Clo, Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never. saw'it good manners,; if thou never faw'st good manners, , then thy manners must be wicked ; and wickedness is fin, and fin is damnation : Thou art in a parlous dlate, thepherd.
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
You told me, you falute not at the court, but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.
Clo. Instance, briefly; come, infance.
Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fels, you know, are greasy.
Clo. Why, do not your courtiers hands sweat? and is. not the grease of a mutton as wholsome as the sweat of a. mani thallow, shallow;- a better instance, I say: Come..
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.
a more sounder instance, come. Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our theep; and would you have us kiss tar the courtie,'s hands are perfumed with civet.
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.
Clo. Wilt thou reft damn'd: God help thee, Thallow 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
Clo, That is another simple fin in you, to bring thé! ewes and the rams together; and to offer to get your. Jiving 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't not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no fhepherds ;; I cannot see else how thou should'tt ’scape.
Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganymed, my new mit tress's brother.
Enter Rosalind, with a papers
No jewel is like Rofalind.
Cló. I'll shime you so, eight years together ; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: It is the right butter-women's rank to market.
Rol. Out, fool!
(14) If a hart doth lack a hind, Let him feek out Rosalind.
Then to cart with Rosalinde
Sweetest nur hath fowrelt rind, sitika 1 Such a not is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will findi
Matt find love's prick, and Rosalind." "This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you inte feet yourself with them???
por even Roj. Peate, you dull. fool, I found them on a tree. rivil Clom Traly, the tree yields bad fruit. 135 173339333
Rof.- I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medler's then it will be the earliest fruit i' th country: for you it be rottenere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medler.
Clo. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the foreit judge.
Exter Celia, ruith a writing.
For it is unpeopled? no;
That shall civil sayings show.
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
Buckles in his sum of age ; (14) If a bart dotb lack a bind, &c.] The poet, in arraigning this species of versification, seems not only to satirize the mode, that so much prevail'd in his time, of writing fonnets and madrigals; but tacitly to fneer the levity of Dr. Thomas Lodge, a grave physician in Queen Elizabetb's reign, who was very fertile of paftoral fongs; and who wrote a whole book of poems in the praise of his mistress, whom he calls Rosalindo