Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
II.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not.
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
DUKE SENIOR
If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son,—
As you have whisper’d faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn’d and living in your face,—
Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke
That lov’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 understand.
[Exeunt]
ACT III
SCENE I. A Room in the Palace
[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords and Attendants.]
DUKE FREDERICK
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:
Find out thy brother wheresoe’er he is:
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth
Of what we think against thee.
OLIVER
O that your highness knew my heart in this!
I never lov’d my brother in my life.
DUKE FREDERICK
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 of Arden
[Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.]
ORLANDO
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love;
And thou, thrice-crownèd 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 unexpressive she.
[Exit.]
[Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.]
CORIN
And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone?
TOUCHSTONE
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?
CORIN
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.
TOUCHSTONE
Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd?
CORIN
No, truly.
TOUCHSTONE
Then thou art damned.
CORIN
Nay, I hope,—
TOUCHSTONE
Truly, thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
CORIN
For not being at court? Your reason.
TOUCHSTONE
Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.
CORIN
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.
TOUCHSTONE
Instance, briefly; come, instance.
CORIN
Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their fells, you know, are greasy.
TOUCHSTONE
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 better instance, I say; come.
CORIN
Besides, our hands are hard.
TOUCHSTONE
Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again: a more sounder instance; come.
CORIN
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.
TOUCHSTONE
Most shallow man! thou worm’s-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.
CORIN
You have too courtly a wit for me: I’ll rest.