Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! Cor. I partly guefs; for I have lov'd ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, Tho' in thy youth thou waft as true as a lover, As ever figh'd upon a midnight pillow; But if thy love were ever like to mine, As, fure, I think, did never man love fo, How many Actions moft ridiculous Haft thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? Cor. Into a thoufand that I have forgotten. Or if thou haft not fate as I do now, Or if thou haft not broke from company, O Phebe! Phebe! Phebe! [Exit Sil. Rof. Alas, poor Shepherd! fearching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own. Clo. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my fword upon a ftone, and bid him take that for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kiffing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peafcod inftead of her, from whom I took * two cods, and giving her them again, faid with weeping tears, Wear thefe for my fake. We, that are true lovers, run into ftrange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, fo is all nature in love mortal in folly. Rof. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of. Clo. Nay, I fhall ne'er be aware of mine own wit, 'till I break my fhins against it. Rof. Jove! Jove! this Shepherd's paffion is much upon my fashion. Clo. And mine; but it grows fomething stale with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you queftion yond man, If he for gold will give us any food; I faint almoft to death. Clo. Holla; you, Clown! Rof. Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Clo. Your Betters, Sir. Cor. Elfe they are very wretched. Rof. Peace, I fay-Good Even to you, friend. Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her, And with for her fake, more than for mine own, For cods it would be more like fenfe to read peas, which, hav ing the fhape of pearls, refembled the common presents of lovers. fo is all nature in love mortal in folly.] This expreffion I do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort a great quantity, is ufed as a particle of amplification; as, mortal tall, mortal little. Of this fenfe I believe Shakespeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, fo is all nature in love, abounding in folly. And And do not fhare the fleeces that I graze; Befides, his Cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed Rof. What is he, that shall buy his flock and pafture? Cor. That young fwain, that ye faw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. Rof. I pray thee, if it ftand with honesty, --I like this place, and willingly could wafte Cor. Affuredly, the thing is to be fold; And buy it with your gold right fuddenly. [Exeunt." NE V. SCENE Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others. SONG. Under the green-wood tree, Who loves to lie with me, › And in my voice right wel far as I have power to bid you time fhall ye be. In my voice, as far as I have a voice or vote, as welcome. And tune his merry note. Unto the fweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I pr'ythee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monfieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it more, I pr'ythee, more I can fuck melancholy out of a Song, as a weazel fucks more, I pr'ythee, more. eggs: Ami. My voice is rugged; I know, I cannot please you. Jaq. I do not defire you to please me, I do defire you to fing; come, come, another ftanzo; call you 'em ftanzo's? Ami. What you will, Monfieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe me nothing.- -Will you fing? Ami. More at your request, than to please myself. Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but That, they call Compliments, is like the encounter of two dog-apes. And when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, fing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. Ami. Well, I'll end the fong. Sirs, cover the while; -the Duke will dine under this tree; he hath been all this day to look you. Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too difputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he, but I give heav'n thanks, and make no boaft of them.- Come, warble, come. In old editions, ragged. SONG SO N. G. Who doth ambition shun, And pleas'd with what he gets; Come hither, come hither, come hither; No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give thee a verfe to this note, that I made yesterday in defpight of Ami. And I'll fing it. Jaq. Thus it goes. my invention. If it do come to pass. Grofs fools as he, An' if he will come to me. Ami. What's that's ducdame? Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle.--I'll go to fleep if I can; if I cannot, 'I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. Ami. And I'll go feek the Duke: his banquet is prepar❜d. Old Edition, to live. [Exeunt, feverally. duc ad me. That is, bring him + For ducdame Sir T. Hanmer, to me. very acutely and judiciously, reads, |