Touch.

Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up your goats, Audrey: And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you^{4 note}

Aud.

Your features! Lord warrant us! what features?

Touch.

I am here with thee and thy goats, as

the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths^{5 note}

Jaq.

O knowledge ill-inhabited^{6 note}

Touch.

When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room^{7 note}:— Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.

Aud.

I do not know what poetical is: Is it honest in deed, and word? Is it a true thing?

Touch.

No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do feign^{8 note}

Aud.

Do you wish then, that the gods had made me poetical?

Touch.

I do, truly: for thou swear'st to me, thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.

Aud.

Would you not have me honest?

Touch.

No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd: for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

Jaq.

A material fool^{9 note}

Aud.

Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest!

Touch.

Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

Aud.

I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul^{1 note}

Touch.

Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee: and to that end, I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village; who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us.

Jaq.

I would fain see this meeting.

Aud.

Well, the gods give us joy!

Touch.

Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though^{2 note}? Courage! As

horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said,— Many a man knows no end of his goods: right: many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so:— Poor men alone?—No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal^{3 note}. Is the single man therefore blessed? No: as a wall'd town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor: and by how much defence^{4 note} is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want.

Here comes sir Oliver^{5 note}

are well met: Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?

Sir Oli.

Is there none here to give the woman?

Touch.

I will not take her on gift of any man.

Sir Oli.

Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.

Jaq. [Discovering himself.]

Proceed, proceed; I'll give her.

Touch.

Good even, good master What ye call't: How do you, sir? You are very well met: God'ild you^{5 note}

Jaq.

Will you be married, motley?

Touch.

As the ox hath his bow^{6 note}

Jaq.

And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.

Touch.

I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well: and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter, to leave my wife.

Jaq.
Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.

Touch.
Come, sweet Audrey:
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry,
Farewell, good master Oliver!

Not—O sweet Oliver,
    O brave Oliver^{7 note}