Cor.

And how like you this shepherd's life, Mr. Touchstone?

&wlquo;Clo.

&wlquo;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?&wrquo;

&wlquo;Cor.

&wlquo;No more, but that I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that he, that wants mony, 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: and that ^{1 note}

Clo.

^{2 note}Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in Court, shepherd?

Cor.

No, truly.

Clo.

Then thou art damn'd.

Cor.

Nay, I hope—

Clo.

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

Cor.

For not being at Court? your reason.

Clo.

^{3 note}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.

Cor.

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 courtesie 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 greasie.

Clo.

Why, do not your Courtiers hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholsome as the sweat of a man? shallow, shallow;—a better instance, I say: come.

Cor.

Besides, our hands are hard.

Clo.

Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again:—a more sounder instance, come.

Cor.

And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tarr? the Courtier's hands are perfumed with civet.

Clo.

Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh, indeed! learn of the wise and perpend; civet is of a baser birth than tarr; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.

Cor.

You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.

Clo.

Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man; God ^{4 note}

&plquo;Cor.

&plquo;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.&prquo;

Clo.

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 a bawd to a bell-weather; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelve-month to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou should'st 'scape.

Cor.

Here comes young Mr. Ganimed, my new mistress's brother.