II. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Though thou the waters warp, As friend remember'd' not. Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, họ! &c. Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were; ACT THE THIRD. 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, 9 Remembering. 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, Of what we think against thee. 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. [Exeunt. 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 unexpressive3 she. [Exit. Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone? I Seizure. 2 Expeditiously. * Inexpressible. 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, 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 - Here see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck. comes young master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper. Ros. From the east to western Ind, Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Are but black to Rosalind. Let no face be kept in mind, 4 Delineated. › Complexion, beauty. Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rank to market. Ros. Out, fool! If a hart do lack a hind, They that reap, must sheaf and bind; Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind. He that sweetest rose will find, Must find its thorns with 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 in the country for you'll be rotten e'er 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. Enter CELIA, reading a paper. Ros. Peace! Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside. Cel. Why should this desert silent be? Tongues I'll hang on every tree, ❝ Grave, solemn. Some, how brief the life of man 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: Or at every sentence' end, Teaching all that read, to know Sad Lucretia's modesty. By heavenly synod was devis'd; To have the touches' dearest priz'd. Ros. 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, sirrah. Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses? 7 Features. |