Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance.
Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy.
Touch. Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? and [050] 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.
Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow [054] again. A more sounder instance, come.
055 Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery of [056] our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet.
Touch. Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect [059] of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and 060 perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me: I ’ll rest.
Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.
065 Cor. 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.