Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd: O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

[Exit SILVIUS. Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own.

6

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 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.

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.

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 nature in love abounding in folly. JOHNSON.

Touch. Holla; you, clown!

Ros.

Cor. Who calls?

Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.

Touch. Your betters, sir.

Cor. Else are they very wretched.
Ros.

Peace, I say:

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 flocks, and bounds of feed,
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That will feed on; but what is, come see,
And in my voice' most welcome shall you be.

you

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.

9 And little recks -] i. e. heeds, cares for.

1 And in my voice-] As far as I have a voice or vote.

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,
I will your very faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly.

SCENE V.

The same.

Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and Others.

SONG.

Ami. Under the greenwood tree,
Who loves to lie with me,

And tune his merry note
Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither;

Here shall he see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

[Exeunt.

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 ragged2; 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?

2

ragged;] Our modern editors (Mr. Malone excepted) read rugged; but ragged had anciently the same meaning.

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.

SONG.

Who doth ambition shun, [All together here.
And loves to live i'the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither ;

Here shall he see

No enemy,

But winter and rough weather.

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.
Jaq. Thus it goes:

If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,

3 disputable For disputatious.

Ducdame, ducdàme, ducdàme';
Here shall he see,
Gross fools as he,
An if he will come to Amit.

Ami. What's that ducdàme?

Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.

Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is prepar'd. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE VI.

The same.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: 0, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little: If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; hold death awhile at thy arm's end: I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerily: and I'll be with thee quickly.-Yet thou liest in the bleak air: Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt

ducdame ;] For ducdame, Sir Thomas Hanmer, very acutely and judiciously, reads duc ad me, that is, bring him to me. Dr. Farmer thinks it is evidently a word coined for the nonce. "An if he will come to me." MALONE.

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VOL III.

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