Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. Why, I have eat none yet. Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress: Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? Orl. You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred, And know some nurture. But forbear, I say; Till I and my affairs are answered. Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you: I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, Limp'd in pure love: till he be first suffic'd,- And we will nothing waste till you return. Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good comfort! Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy; Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Jaq. Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. [Exit. Duke S. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed. Orl. Adam. So had I thank you most for him. I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. Duke S. Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you As AMIENS sings. SONG. I. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Although thy breath be rude Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly This life is most jolly. II. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, As friend remember'd not. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! &c. Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son,you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn'd and living in your face,- That lov'd your father. The residue of your fortune, Thou art right welcome as thy master is; Support him by the arm.-Give me your hand, [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and Attendants. 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: Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Oli. O that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd 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 IL-The Forest of Arden. Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. [Exeunt. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; Shall see thy virtue witness'd everywhere. Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. [Exit. 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 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 stomach. Hast any philosophy 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. 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 mere instance, I say; come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. Touch. Your lips will feel them 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,-the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. 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 |