« ZurückWeiter »
Cór. No more, but that I know, the more one fickens 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.
Cor. No, truly.
. Truly, thou art damn’d, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
Cor. For not being at court? your reason.
Clo. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never faw'it good manners ; if thou never saw'st good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is fin, and finis damnation: Thou art in a parlous Rate, shepherd.
Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: Thole, that are good manners at the court, are as ridiculous in the country, as the behaviour of the country is moít 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. Clo
. Instance, briefly; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their. fels, you know, are greasy.
Clo. Why, do not your courtiers hands sweat? and is Dot the grease of a mutton as wholsome as the sweat of a man? hallow, shallow;--a better instance, I say: Come.
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.
Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our hheep; and would you have us kiss tar? the courtie's kands are perfumed with civet.
Clo. Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respeit of a good piece of flesh, indeed! learn of the wife and perpend; civit is of a baser birth than tar; the very uncleanly Aux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll ret.
Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? 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 greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze
, and my lambs fuck.
Clow That is another fimple fin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together; and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be a bawd to a bell-weather; and to betray a fhe lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of all reason, able match. If thou be'ft not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou fould't 'scape.
Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganymed, my new miltress's brother.
Enter Rosalind, with a paper.
No jewel is like Rosalind.
But the face of Rosalind.
Ros. Out, fool!
(14) If a hart doth lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you ine feet yourfelf with them? Ros
. Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree. Clo
. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medler; then it will be the earliest fruit i'ch' country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the sigbt virtue of the medler. Clo
. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the
Enter Celia, with a writing.
For it is anpeopled? nos
That shall civil sayings show.
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
Buckles in his sum of age; (14) If a bart doth lack a hind, &c.] The poet, in arraigning this fpecies of versification, seenis not only to satirize the mode, that so much prevail'd in his time, of writing sonnets and madrigals; but tacitly to sneer the levity of Dr. Thomas Lodge, a grave physician in Queen Elizabeth's reign, who was very fertile of pastoral songs; and who wrote a whole book of poems in the praise of his mistress, whom he calls Rosalinde
Some of violated vows,
'Twixt the fouls of friend and friend,
Or at every sentence end,
Teaching all, that read, to know,
Hleaven would in little show.
That one body should be fiilid
Nature presently diftilld
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
By heav'nly fynod was devis'd;
To have the touches dearest priz'd.
[Exeuni Cor. and Clown.
Rof. O molt gentle Jupiter !~-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners wi:hal, and new ver cry'd, have patience, good people.
Cel. How now ? back-friends! Thepherd, go off a lie tle: Go with him, sirrah.
Clo. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable re treat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with fcrip and scrippage.
Cel. Didit thou hear these verses? Rol
. O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verlei
. Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bea themselves without the verse, and therefore itood lamely in the verse.
Cel. But didft thou hear without wondring, how by name should be hang'd and carv’d upon
and so encounter.
of all whooping
Rof I was seven of the nine days out of wonder, before
you came : For, look here, what I found on a palmtree; I was never so be-rhimed since Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly, remember.
Cel. Tro you, who hath done this?
Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck :: Change you colour?
Ro. I pr’ythee, who?
Cel. 0° Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to, meet; but mountains
be removed with earthquakes, Rof. Nay, but who is it? Cel. Is it possible?
Ref. 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
Rofi (15) Odd's, my complexion ! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my difpofition? (16) One inch of delay more is a South-sea off discovery. I pr’ythee, tell me, who is it; quickly, and speak apace; I would thou could't kammer, 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. (15) Good
complexion, doft tbou think, &c.-] This is a mode of expression, that I could not reconcile to common sense; I have therefore ventur’d by a slight change to read, Odd's, my complexion ! fo, in another scene of this comedy, Rosalind again says ; Odd's, my little life!
- Odd's, my will! Her love is not the bare that I do bunt. 476) One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery;] A footh-sea, of discovery: This is ftark nonsense; we must read off discovery, 1. e. from discovery. « if you delay me one inch of time longer I " hall think this secret as far from discovery as the South-sea is."