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.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love fo heartily.
If thou remember'ft not the flighteft folly',
That ever love did make thee run into;
Thou haft not lov'd..

Or if thou haft not fate as I do now,
Wearying the hearer in thy mistress, praife,
Thou haft not lov'd.-

Or if thou haft not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my paffion now makes me;
Thou haft not lov'd.-

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.
Cor. Who calls?

Clo. Your Betters, Sir.

Cor. Elfe they are very wretched.

Rof. Peace, I fay-Good Even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.
Rof. I pry'thee, fhepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this defert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may reft ourselves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much opprefs'd,
And faints for fuccour.

Cor. Fair Sir, I pity her,

And with for her fake, more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her:
But I am Shepherd to another man,

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;
My Master is of churlish difpofition,
And little recks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hofpitality:

Befides, his Cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on fale, and at our fheep-cote now,
By reafon of his abfence, there is nothing
That ye will feed on; but what is, come fee;
And in my voice most welcome fhall ye be 1.

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,
Buy thou the cottage, pafture, and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
Cel. And we will mend thy wages.

--I like this place, and willingly could wafte
My time in it.

Cor. Affuredly, the thing is to be fold;
Go with me. If you like, upon report,
The foil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be;

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:
Here shall be fee

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 loves to lie* i'th' Sun,
Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets;

Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here fball he fee

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.
That any man turn afs;
Leaving his wealth and eafe
A ftubborn will to please,
Ducdame, ducdame, duc dame t;
Here fhall he fee

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,