Will you go, fifter?-Shepherd, ply her hard :-
Come, fifter:-Shepherdefs, look on him better,
And be not proud: though all the world could fee,
None could be fo * abus'd in fight as he.

Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt Rof. Cel. and Corin. Phe. Dead fhepherd, now I find 'thy saw of might; "Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first fight?"

If

Sil. Sweet Phebe !

Phe. Hah! what fay'ft thou, Silvius?

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Sil. Wherever forrow is, relief would be:

you

do forrow at my grief in love,

By giving love, your forrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou haft my love; Is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would have you.

Phe. Why, that were covetousness.

Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;
And yet it is not, that I bear thee love:
But fince that thou canst talk of love fo well,
Thy company, which erft was irksome to me,
I will endure; and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompence,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ❜d.
Sil. So holy, and fo perfect is my love,
And I in fuch a poverty of grace,

That I fhall think it a moft plenteous crop

To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then

1 could fee,]-fhould see you.

* abus'd in fight]-as to esteem you handsome.

1 thy jaw of might ;]-thy faying true-The line following is quoted from England's Parnafus, and attributed to Ch. Marlowe.

A scatter'd

A fcatter'd fmile, and that I'll live upon.

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft;

And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds,

That the old carlot once was mafter of.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevish boy;-yet he talks well ;

But what care I for words? yet words do well,
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth;-Not very pretty :—

But, fure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him:
He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him
Is his complexion; and fafter than his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall :
His leg is but fo fo; and yet 'tis well:

There was a pretty redness in his lip;
A little riper, and more lufty red

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the "conftant red, and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him: but, for my part,

I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet

I have more caufe to hate him than to love him:

For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black,
And, now I am remembred, fcorn'd at me :

I marvel, why I answer'd not again :
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

carlot]-churl.

n

conftant]deep, full.

Phe.

Phe. I'll write it ftraight;

The matter's in my head, and in my heart:

I will be bitter with him, and paffing short:
Go with me, Silvius.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.
The Foreft.

Enter Rofalind, Celia, and Jaques.

Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted

with thee.

Rof. They fay, you are a melancholy fellow.

Jaq. I am fo; I do love it better than laughing.

Rof. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows and betray themselves to every modern cenfure, worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be fad and say nothing.
Rof. Why then, 'tis good, to be a post.

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these : but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many fimples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humourous fadness.

Rof. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be fad I fear, you have fold your own lands, to fee other

• modern]-common, ordinary.

men's;

men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gain'd my experience.

Enter Orlando.

Rof. And your experience makes you fad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me fad; and to travel for it too.

Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rofalind!

Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank

verse.

[Exit.

Rof. Farewel, monfieur traveller: Look, you lifp, and wear ftrange fuits; difable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost. chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have 'fwam in a gondola.-Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover?-An you serve me fuch another trick, never come in my fight more.

Orla. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

Rof. Break an hour's promife in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, may be faid of him, that Cupid hath clapt him o' the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.

it

Orla. Pardon me, dear Rofalind.

Rof. Nay, an you be fo tardy, come no more in my fight; I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orla. Of a fnail?

Rof. Ay, of a fnail; for though he comes flowly, he carries his house on his head; a better jointure, I think,

P difable]-difparage.

1fwam in a gondola.]-been at Venice. VOL. II.

R

a nativity,]-birth-place.

than

than

you can make a woman: Befides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orla. What's that?

Rof. Why, horns; which fuch as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the flander of his wife.

Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rofalind is virtuous.

Rof. And I am your Rofalind.

Cel. It pleases him to call you fo; but he hath a Rofalind of a better leer than you.

Rof. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to confent :-What would you fay to me now, an I were your very very Rofalind? Orla. I would kifs, before I spoke.

Rof. Nay, you were better fpeak firft; and when you were gravell❜d for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kifs. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us !) matter, the cleanlieft fhift is to kifs.

Orla. How if the kifs be denied?

Rof. Then he puts you to entreaty, and there begins

new matter.

Orla. Who could be out, being before his beloved miftrefs?

Rof. Marry, that fhould you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Orla. What, of my fuit?

Rof. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your fuit. Am not I your Rofalind?

Orla. I take fome joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her.

leer]-look, feature, complexion.

"Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer."
TITUS ANDRONICUS, A& IV, S. 2. Aar.