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bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.
Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk.
Enter Corin and Silvius.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess;
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:
[Exit Silvius. Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy
wound, I have by hard adventure found mine 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 anighto to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet, 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, and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, 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.8
Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.
Touch. 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, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Cor. Who calls? Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. Ros.
Peace, I say:-
6 — anight-] Thus the old copy. Anight, is in the night. The word is used by Chaucer, in The Legende of good Women. Our modern editors read, o'nights, or o'night.
7- batlet,] The instrument with which washers beat their coarse clothes. JOHNSON.
8 — so is all nature in love mortal in folly.] This expression I do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort, a great quantity, is used as a particle of amplification; as mortal tall, mortal little. Of this sense I believe Shakspeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, so is all nuture in love abounding in folly.
Good even to you, friend.
Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
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 oppress'd, 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 recks to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality: Besides, his cote, his Rocks, and bounds of feed, Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you 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
place, And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold: Go with me; if you like, upon report, The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
9 And little recks-] i. e. heeds, cares for.
I will your very faithful feeder be,
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and Others.
Who loves to lie with me,
Unto the sweet birds throat,
Here shall he see
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 pr’ythee, more.
Ami. My voice is ragged;: 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 you sing?
? - ragged;] Our modern editors (Mr. Malone excepted) read rugged; but ragged had anciently the same meaning. VOL. III.
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; 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 while; the duke will drink under this tree:-he hath been all this day to look you.
Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too dispútable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.
And pleas'd with what he gets,
Here shall he see.
Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ami. And I'll sing it.
If it do come to pass,
dispútable—] For disputatious.