wunder · Library

Part 12

As You Like It · William Shakespeare — chapter 12 of 27 · ~763 words · public domain

Read in the Wunder reader — free

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer.

Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercie, I should not seeke an absent argument Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it, Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is, Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more To seeke a liuing in our Territorie. 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 brothers mouth, Of what we thinke against thee

Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this: I neuer lou'd my brother in my life

Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent vpon his house and Lands: Do this expediently, and turne him going.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Orlando.

Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue, And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes, And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter, That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes, Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where. Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree, The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.

Exit

Enter Corin & Clowne.

Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone? Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard? Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred

Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher: Was't euer in Court, Shepheard? Cor. No truly

Clo. Then thou art damn'd

Cor. Nay, I hope

Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one side

Cor. For not being at Court? your reason

Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard

Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if Courtiers were shepheards

Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance

Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their Fels you know are greasie

Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say: Come

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard

Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more sounder instance, come

Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet

Clo. Most shallow man: Thou wormes meate in respect of a good peece of flesh indeed: learne of the wise and perpend: Ciuet is of a baser birth then Tarre, the verie vncleanly fluxe of a Cat. Mend the instance Shepheard

Cor. You haue too Courtly a wit, for me, Ile rest

Clo. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God helpe thee shallow man: God make incision in thee, thou art raw

← Previous chapterAll chaptersNext chapter →

As You Like It · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.

© 2026 Wunder Learning LLC · Terms & Privacy