There will we make our peds of rofes;
And a thousand vagrant pofies.

By Shallow

'Mercy on me! I have a great difpo

fitions to cry. Melodious birds fing madrigalls When as I fat in Pabilon;

pofies. By fhallow, &c.

and a thousand vagrant

Simp. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh. Eva. He's welcome. By shallow rivers, to whofe falls

Heav'n profper the right! what weapons is he?

3 By Shallow rivers, &c.] This is part of a beautiful little poem of the author's, which

Simp.

poem, and the answer to it, the reader will not be displeased to find here.

The Paffionate Shepherd to his Love.
Come live with me, and be my Love,
And we will all the Pleasure prove,
That Hills and Vallies, Dale and Field,
And all the craggy Mountains yield.
There will we fit upon the Rocks,
And fee the Shepherds feed their Flocks,
By fhallow Rivers, by whofe Falls
Melodious Birds fing Madrigals:
There will I make thee Beds of Rofes,
And then a thousand fragrant Pofies;
A Cap of Flowers, and a Kirtle
Imbroider'd all with leaves of Myrtle;
A Gown made of the finest Wool,
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined Slippers for the Cold,
With Buckles of the pureft Gold;
A Belt of Straw, and Ivie Buds,
With Coral Clafps, and Amber Studs.
And if thefe Pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my Love,
Thy filver Dishes for thy Meat,
As precious as the Gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory Table be

Prepar'd each Day for thee and me.

The Shepherds Swains fhall dance and fing,
For thy Delight each May Morning.
If thefe Delights thy Mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my Love,

The

Simp. No weapons, Sir; there comes my mafter Mr. Shallow, and another gentleman from Frogmore, over the ftile, this way.

Eva. Pray you, give me my gown, or elfe keep it in your arms.

SCENE II.

Enter Page, Shallow and Slender.

Shal. How now, mafter Parfon? good morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful. The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd.

If all the World and Love were young,
And Truth in every Shepherd's Tongue;
Thefe pretty Pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy Love.
But Time drives Flocks from Field to Fold,
When Rivers rage, and Rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
And all complain of Cares to come:
The Flowers do fade, and wanton Fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields.
A honey Tongue, a Heart of Gall,
Is Fancy's Spring, but Sorrow's Fall.
Thy Gowns, thy Shoes, thy Bed of Rofes,
Thy Cap, thy Kirtle, and thy Pofies:
Soon break, foon wither, foon forgotten,
In Folly ripe, in Reason rotten.
Thy Belt of Straw and Ivy-Buds,
Thy Coral Clafps, and Amber Studs,
All these in me no means can move,
To come to thee, and be thy Love.
What should we talk of Dainties then,
Of better Meat than's fit for Men?
These are but vain that's only good
Which God hath bleft, and fent for Food.
But could Youth laft, and Love still breed,
Had Joys no date, and Age no need;
Then thefe Delights my Mind might move,
To live with thee, and be thy Love.
These two Poems, which Dr.
Warburton gives to Shakespeare,
are, by writers nearer that time,
difpofed of, one to Marlow, the

other to Raleigh. These Poems are read in different Copies with great Variations.

Kk 2

Slen.

Slen. Ah, fweet Anne Page?

Page. Save you, good Sir Hugh.

Eva. 'Plefs you from his mercy-fake, all of you. Shal. What? the fword and the word? do you ftudy them both, Mr. Parson?

Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hofe, this raw-rheumatick day?

Eva. There is reafons and causes for it.

Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, Mr, Parfon.

Eva. Ferry well: what is it?

Page. Yonder is a moft reverend gentleman, who belike, having receiv'd wrong by fome perfon, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience, that ever you faw.

Shal. I have liv'd fourfcore years, and upward; I never heard a man of his place, gravity and learning, fo wide of his own respect.

Eva. What is he?

Page. I think you know him; Mr. Doctor Caius, the renowned French phyfician.

Eva. Got's will, and his paffion of my heart! I had as lief you should tell me of a mefs of porridge. Page. Why?

Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen; and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave as you would defire to be acquainted withal.

Page. I warrant you, he's the man fhould fight with

him.

Slen. O, fweet Anne Page!

SCENE III.

Enter Hoft, Caius, and Rugby.

Shal. It appears fo, by his weapons.-Keep them afunder-here comes Doctor Caius.

Page. Nay, good Mr. Parfon, keep in your weapon.

Shal

Shal. So do you, good Mr. Doctor.

Hoft. Difarm them, and let them queftion; let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.

Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your car: wherefore vil you not meet-a me?

Eva. Pray you, ufe your patience. In good time. Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.

Eva. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stocks to other mens humours. I defire you in friendship, and will one way or other make you amends; I will knog your urinal about your knave's cogs-comb, for miffing your meetings and appointments.

Caius. Diable! Jack Rugby, mine Hoft de Jarterre, have I not stay for him, to kill him? have I not, at de place I did appoint?

Eva. As I am a chriftian's foul, now look you, this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine Hoft of the Garter.

Hoft. Peace, I fay, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welch, foul-curer and body-curer.

Caius. Ay, dat is very good, excellent.

Hoft. Peace, I fay; hear mine Host of the Garter. Am I politick? am I fubtle? am I a Machiavel? fhall I lose my Doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I lofe my Parfon? my Prieft? my Sir Hugh? no, he gives me the proverbs and the no verbs. Give me thy hand, terreftial; fo.-Give me thy hand, celestial; fo. Boys of art, I have deceiv'd you both: I have directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your fkins are whole, and let burn'd fack be the iffue. Come, lay their fwords to pawn. Follow me, lad of peace. Follow, follow, follow.

Shal. Truft me, a mad Hoft.-Follow, gentlemen, follow.

Slen. O, fweet Anne Page!

[Exeunt Shal. Slen. Page and Hoft. Kk 3

Caius,

Caius. Ha! do I perceive dat? have you make a de-fot of us, ha, ha?

Eva. This is well, he has made us his vlouting ftog. I defire you, that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together to be revenge on this fame fcald fcurvy cogging companion, the Hoft of the Garter.

Caius. By gar, with all my heart; he promise to bring me where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me

too.

Eva. Well, I will fmite his noddles.-Pray you fol

low.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Street, in Windfor.

Enter Mistress Page, and Robin.

Mrs. Page. N

AY, keep your way, little gallant; you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?

Rob. I had rather, forfooth, go before you like a man, than follow him like a dwarf.

Mrs. Page. O, you are a flattering boy; now, I fee, you'll be a Courtier.

Enter Ford.

Ford. Well met, mistress Page; whither go you? Mrs. Page. Truly, Sir, to fee your wife; is the at home?

Ford. Ay; and as idle as the may hang together,

3 Scall feurvey.] Scall was an old word of reproach, as Scab was afterwards.

Chaucer imprecates on his

Scrivener,

Under thy longe lockes mayeft thou have the Scalle.

for