LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

       TOUCHSTONE

       Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.

       CORIN

       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 lambs suck.

       TOUCHSTONE

       That is another simple sin in you: to bring the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be’st not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst ‘scape.

       CORIN

       Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress’s brother.

       [Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper.]

       ROSALIND

       “From the east to western Ind,

       No jewel is like Rosalind.

       Her worth, being mounted on the wind,

       Through all the world bears Rosalind.

       All the pictures fairest lin’d

       Are but black to Rosalind.

       Let no face be kept in mind

       But the fair of Rosalind.”

       TOUCHSTONE

       I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted. It is the right butter-women’s rank to market.

       ROSALIND

       Out, fool!

       TOUCHSTONE

       For a taste:—

       If a hart do lack a hind,

       Let him seek out Rosalind.

       If the cat will after kind,

       So be sure will Rosalind.

       Winter garments must be lin’d,

       So must slender Rosalind.

       They that reap must sheaf and bind,—

       Then to cart with Rosalind.

       Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,

       Such a nut is Rosalind.

       He that sweetest rose will find

       Must find love’s prick, and Rosalind.

       This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them?

       ROSALIND

       Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.

       TOUCHSTONE

       Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.

       ROSALIND

       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 ere you be half ripe, and that’s the right virtue of the medlar.

       TOUCHSTONE

       You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.

       [Enter CELIA, reading a paper.]

       ROSALIND

       Peace!

       Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.

       CELIA

       “Why should this a desert be?

       For it is unpeopled? No;

       Tongues I’ll hang on every tree

       That shall civil sayings show:

       Some, how brief the life of man

       Runs his erring pilgrimage,

       That the streching of a span

       Buckles in his sum of age.

       Some, of violated vows

       ‘Twixt the souls of friend and friend;

       But upon the fairest boughs,

       Or at every sentence end,

       Will I Rosalinda write,

       Teaching all that read to know

       The quintessence of every sprite

       Heaven would in little show.

       Therefore heaven nature charg’d

       That one body should be fill’d

       With all graces wide-enlarg’d:

       Nature presently distill’d

       Helen’s cheek, but not her heart;

       Cleopatra’s majesty;

       Atalanta’s better part;

       Sad Lucretia’s modesty.

       Thus Rosalind of many parts

       By heavenly synod was devis’d,

       Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

       To have the touches dearest priz’d.

       Heaven would that she these gifts should have,

       And I to live and die her slave.”

       ROSALIND

       O most gentle Jupiter!—What tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried “Have patience, good people!”

       CELIA

       How now! back, friends; shepherd, go off a little:—go with him, sirrah.

       TOUCHSTONE

       Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.

       [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.]

       CELIA

       Didst thou hear these verses?

       ROSALIND

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

       CELIA

       That’s no matter; the feet might bear the verses.

       ROSALIND

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

       CELIA

       But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

       ROSALIND

       I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree: I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras’ time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.

       CELIA

       Trow you who hath done this?

       ROSALIND

       Is it a man?

       CELIA

       And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you

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