You are a thousand times a properer man,

Than she a woman: 'Tis such fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children :
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
And out of you she sees herself more proper,
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can; you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer:
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 2
So, take her to thee, shepherd; - fare you well.

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year toge-
ther;

I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.

Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me?

Phe. For no ill will I bear you.

Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine:

Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house,
"Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by: -

Will you go, sister?- Shepherd, ply her hard: -
Come, sister:- Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud; though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd in sight as he.3
Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN.

2 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.] The sense is The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers.

3 though all the world could see,

None could be so abus'd in sight as he.] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beau→ tiful but he. JOHNSON.

Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe,

Phe.

Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be;

If you do sorrow at my grief in love,

By giving love, your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermin❜d.

Phe. Thou hast 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 since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompense,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,

And I in such a poverty of grace,

That I shall think it a most plenteous crop

To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then

A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere

while?

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 master of.

4 Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might;

Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ?] The second of these lines is from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1637.

5 That the old carlot-] i. e. peasant, from cart or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage.

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, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him :
He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.
+ He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall:
His leg is but so so; and yet it is well:
There was a pretty redness in his lip;
A little riper and more lusty red

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant 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 cause 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 remember'd, scorn'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.
Phe.

I'll write it straight;

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

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

[Exeunt.

6 a peevish boy:] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies weak, silly.

"He is not very tall." MALOne.

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

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.

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

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

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. 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 soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice7; nor the lover's, which is all these but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects: and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness.+

Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.

7 which is nice;] i. e. silly, trifling.

† Malone reads, "travels; which by often rumination wraps me, in a most humorous sadness."

Enter ORLANDO.

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

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!

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

[Exit.

Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable 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 swam in a gondola. Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover? An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

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

Ros. Break an hour's promise 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, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clap'd him o'the shoulder, but I warrant him heartwhole.

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight; I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orl. Of a snail?

Ros. Ay; of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head; a better jointure, I think, than you can make a woman: Besides, he brings his destiny with him.

9 swam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes lost their religion.