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pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no cross, (12) if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money
Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden : the more fool
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk.
Enter Corin and SILVIUS.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you
SIL. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess;
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
• I cannot go no further] Instead of cannot, the fo. of 1632 reads can.
We conceive this to be amongst the many proofs of what Mr. Malone insists upon, viz. that the alterations made in that edition were arbitrary, and generally without a knowledge of the author's manner. See note at the opening of A. II. Tw. N. Anton.
to te is full of this quibbling
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly.
[Exit Silvius. Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of their wound,*
would, I have by hard adventure found my own.
Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batler,' and the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, (14) and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears,"5) Wear these for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly."
Ros. Thou speak’st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.
• If thou—or if-thou hast not lov'd] Hence, no doubt, the first conception of that exquisite ballad, the leading idea of which is with such truth, beauty, and nature, so much farther pursued by Mrs. Barbauld.
“ Come here, fond youth, whoe'er you be," &c. For their wound," the reading of the fo. 1632, the modern editors read thy.
• batler] The instrument with which washers, beat their coarse clothes. Johnson.
The fo, of 1632 reads batlet.
a mortal in folly) Extremely foolish. Mortal is a provincial vulgarism, from mort, a great quantity.
Torcii. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion. Touch. And mine; but it grows something
stale with me. CEL. I
pray you, one of you question yond man, If he for gold will give us any food; I faint almost to death.
Touch. Holla; you, clown!
Peace, I say:Good even to you,
friend. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you
Ros. I pr’ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and feed : Here's a young maid with travel much oppressid, And faints for succour. Cor.
Fair sir, I pity her, And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, My fortunes were more able to relieve her: But I am shepherd to another man, And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze; My master is of churlish disposition, And little wreaks (16) to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality: Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,.. Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing
• bounds of feed-at our sheepcote] Range of pasture. Cote, cot, or cottage, is more familiar to us in its compound, as here, or dovecote, &c.
will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice: most welcome shall you
be. Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and
pasture? CoR. That young swain that you saw here but
erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing.
Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Cel. And we will mend thy wages : I like this
COR. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold:
Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others.
AMI. Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,
voice] By my vote or wish. Hamlet says, Fortinbras has his « dying voice ;" and Horatio adds, " whose voice will draw on more.
And turn his merry note
Under the sweet bird's throat,
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather.
JAQ. More, more, I pr’ythee, more.
AMI. It will make you melancholy, monsieur Jaques.
JAQ. I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs : More, I proythee, more.
Ami. My voice is ragged ; (17) I know, I cannot please you.
JAQ. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call you them stanzas ?
AMI. What you will, monsieur Jaques.
JAQ. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will
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 compliment, is like the encounter of two dog-apes ; (18) and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you
that will not, hold your tongues.
AMI. Well, I'll end the song.--Sirs, cover the
* turn his note]
Modulate, tune. The modern editors, following Mr. Pope (" no timid corrector of texts," as described by Mr. Boucher, Dict. sub voce anneal) read tune,