that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were thepherds.

Clo. Inftance, briefly; come, instance.

Cor. Why, we were still handling our ewes; and their fells you know are greasy.

Clo. Why, do not your courtiers' hands fweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the fweat of a man? Shallow, fhallow: A better inftance, I fay; come.

Cor. Befides our hands are hard.

Clo. Your lips will feel them the fooner. Shallow again: A more founder inftance, come.

Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the furgery of our fheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.

Ch. Moft fhallow man! Thou worms meat, in refpect of a good piece of flefh :-indeed!-Learn of the wife, and perpend: Civet is of a bafer birth than tar: the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the inftance, fhepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll reft.

Clo. Wilt thou reft damn'd? God help thee, fhallow man! God make incifion 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 fee my ewes graze, and my lambs fuck.

Clo. That is another fimple fin in you; to bring the ewes and 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 the-lamb of a

twelve.

twelve-month 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 fhepherds; I cannot fee else how thou fhouldft 'fcape. Cor. Here comes young Mr Ganimed, my new miftrefs's brother.

Enter ROSALIND, with a paper.

Rof. From the east to western Inde,
No jewel is like Rofalind,

Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rofalind
All the pictures, faireft limn'd,
Are but black to Rofalind.

Let no face be kept in mind,
But the face of Rofalind.

Clo. I'll rhime you fo, eight years together; dinners, and suppers, and fleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rate to market. Rof. Out, fool!

Clo. For a tafte:

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him feek out Rofalind
If the cat will after kind,
So, be fure, will Rofalind.
Winter-garments must be lin❜d,
So muft fender Rofalind.

They that reap, must sheaf and bind;

Then to cart with Rofalind.

Sweeteft nut hath foureft rind,

Such a nut is Rofalind.

He that fweeteft rofe will find,

Muft find love's prick, and Rofalind.

This is the very falfe gallop of verses: Why do you infect yourself with them?

Ref. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a

tree.

Clo. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

Rof. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medler: then it will be the earliest fruit the country; for you'll be rotten ere you'll be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medler. Clo. You have faid; but whether wifely or no, let the forest judge.

Enter CELIA, with a writing.

Rof. Peace!

Here comes my fifter, reading; ftand aside.

Cel. Why Should this a defert be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That fhall civil fayings fhow,
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage ;
That the ftretching of a span
Buckles in his fum of age.
Some, of violated vows

'Twixt the fouls of friend and friend
But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every fentence end,

Will I Rofalinda write;

Teaching all that read, to know
This quintefence of every sprite.
Heaven would in little fhow.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd,
That one body should be fill'd

With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature prefently diftill'd

Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majefty";
Atalanta's better part;
Sad Lucretia's modefty.
Thus Rofalind of many parts
By heavenly fynod was devis'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches deareft priz'd.
Heaven would that the thefe gifts should have,
And I to live and die her flave.

Rof O moft 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, fhepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with fcrip and scrippage.

[Exeunt CORIN, and Clown. Cel. Didft thou hear these verses?

Ref. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for fome of them had in them more feet than the verfes would bear.

Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verfes.

Rof. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verses, and therefore ftood lamely in the verse.

Cel. But didst thou hear without wondring, how thy name fhould be hang'd and carv'd upon

trees?

E 2

thefe

Rof.

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 fo be-rhimed fince Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irifh rat, which I can hardly remember.

Cel. Trow you, who hath done this?

Rof. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck; change you colour?

Rof. I pry'thee, who?

Cel. O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be remov'd with carthquakes, and fo encounter.

Rof. Nay, but who is it

Cel. Is it poffible?

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!

Rof. Good my complexion! doft thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doub let and hofe in my difpofition? One inch of delay more is a South-fea of discovery. I pr'ythee, tell ine, who is it; quickly, and speak apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.

Cel.. So you may put a man in your belly.

Rof. Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

Cel