I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most
capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
JAQUES. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a
thatch'd house!
TOUCHSTONE. 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.
Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
AUDREY. I do not know what 'poetical' is. Is it honest in deed
and
word? Is it a true thing?
TOUCHSTONE. 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.
AUDREY. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me poetical?
TOUCHSTONE. 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.
AUDREY. Would you not have me honest?
TOUCHSTONE. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for
honesty
coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
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