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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare


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ORLANDO

       I thank you most for him.

       ADAM

       So had you need;

       I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.

       DUKE SENIOR

       Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you

       As yet, to question you about your fortunes.—

       Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.

       [AMIENS sings.]

       SONG

       I.

       Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

       Thou art not so unkind

       As man’s ingratitude;

       Thy tooth is not so keen,

       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.