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Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not gụess,
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!
[Exit. Ros. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, 40 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 a-night to Jane Smile ; and I remember the kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked ; 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. 50
Ros. Thou speakest 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 nian
Holla, you clown ! . Ros. Peace, fool : he's not thy kinsman. Cor.
· Who calls ? 60 Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor.
Else are they very wretched.
Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Fair sir, I pity her
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 :
SCENE V. The forest.
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more. Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. 10
Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, 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 stanzo: call you 'em stanzos ? ve Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques. :? Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names ; they owe me nothing. Will you sing ?
Ami. More at your request than to please myself. 20 · 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.
29 Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable 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 pleased with what he gets,
Here shall he see
40 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.
If it do come to pass
A stubborn will to please,
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
And if he will come to me. Ami. What's that 'ducdame'?
Jag. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circlė. 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 prepared.
Scene VI. The forest.
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 the arm's end : I will here be with thee presently ; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said ! thou lookest cheerly, 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 not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam !
SCENE VII. The forest.
Lords like outlaws.
First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence :
Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. Go, seek him : tell him I would speak with him.
First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.