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You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
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.1
So, take her to thee, shepherd;-fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together;
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 Ros. CEL. and Cor.

9 That can entame my spirits to your worship.] So, in Much Ado about Nothing:


Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand." Steevens. 1 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.] The sense is, The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers. Johnson. with her foulness,] So, Sir T. Hanmer; the other editions-your foulness. Johnson.


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 beautiful but he. Johnson.

Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight 24

Sil. Sweet Phebe,


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.


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.

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, sign. B b. where it stands thus:

"Where both deliberate, the love is slight:

"Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?"

This line is likewise quoted in Belvidere, or the Garden of the Muses, 1610, p. 29, and in England's Parnassus, printed in 1600, p. 261. Steevens.

This poem of Marlowe's was so popular, (as appears from many of the contemporary writers) that a quotation from it must have been known at once, at least by the more enlightened part of the audience. Our author has again alluded to it in the Two Gentlemen of Verona.-The "dead shepherd," Marlowe, was killed in a brothel, in 1593. Two editions of Hero and Leander, I believe, had been published before the year 1600; it being entered in the Stationers' Books, Sept. 28, 1593, and again in 1597. Malone.

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


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."

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevish boy:7-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:

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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 'tis 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,9
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 cause1 to hate him than to love him:

5 To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then

A scatter'd smile,] Perhaps Shakspeare owed this image to the second chapter of the book of Ruth: "Let fall some handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them.” Steevens.

6 That the old carlot once was master of] i. e. peasant, from carl or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage. Douce. 7 — a peevish boy:] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies weak, silly. So, in King Richard III:

"When Richmond was a little peevish boy." Steevens. 8 He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall:] The old copy reads: He is not very tall, &c.

For the sake of metre, I have omitted the useless adverb-very. Steevens.

9 the constant red, and mingled damask.] "Constant red" is uniform red. "Mingled damask" is the silk of that name, in which, by a various direction of the threads, many lighter shades of the same colour are exhibited. Steevens.

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.

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.



The same.


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 nice;3 nor the lover's, which is all these:

1 I have more cause-] I, which seems to have been inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was inserted by the editor of the second folio. Malone.


let me be better-] Be, which is wanting in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio. Malone.


ard III:

- which is nice;] i. e. silly, trifling. So, in King Rich

"But the respects thereof are nice and trivial." See a note on Romeo and Juliet, Act V, sc. ii. Steevens.

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.

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



Ros. Farewel, 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


my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness.] The old copy reads-in a most, &c. Steevens. The old copy has-by often. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Perhaps we should rather read " and which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness." Malone.

As this speech concludes with a sentence at once ungrammatical and obscure, I have changed a single letter in it; and instead of "in a most humorous sadness," have ventured to read, "is a most humorous sadness." Jaques first informs Rosalind what his melancholy was not; and naturally concludes by telling her what the quality of it is. To obtain a clear meaning, a less degree of violence cannot be employed. Steevens.


· disable —] i. e. undervalue. So afterwards :-"he disabled my judgment." Steevens.

6 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.

The fashion of travelling, which prevailed very much in our author's time, was considered by the wiser men as one of the principal causes of corrupt manners. It was, therefore, gravely censured by Ascham, in his Schoolmaster, and by Bishop Hall,

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