Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier; Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM. Duke S. Welcome: Set down your venerable burden, And let him feed. Orl. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need; I scarce can speak, to thank you for myself. Duke S. Welcome, fall to: I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes:Give us some musick; 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: This life is most jolly. II. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As benefits forgot : As friend remember'd not. Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c. Duke S. If that thou were the good sir Rowland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were; That lov'd your father: The residue of your fortune, [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace. Enter Duke FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. 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; Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living, Thy lands, and all things that thou dost call thine, Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! I never lov'd my brother in my life. Duke F. More villain thou.—Well, push him out of SCENE II.-The Forest. Enter ORLANDO, with a paper. Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: And, thou, thrice-crowned 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. Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE. [Exit. Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Touchstone? Touch. 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 ? Cor. 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 |