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(As, by my faith, I see no more in you
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.2 So, take her to thee, shepherd ;--fare you well. Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year to
gether; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.
Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and
! Of nature's sale-work:] The allusion is to the practice of mechanicks, whose work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance customers. ... Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.] The sense is,
The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers.
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 RoSALIND, Celia, and Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy sąw of
Sil. Sweet Phebe,
Ha! what sąy'st thou, Silvius ?
Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ;
Why, that were coyetousness, Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;
3 though all the world could see,
None could be so abus'd in sight as ne.) Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. JOHNSON * Deud shepherd ! now I find thy saw of might ;
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?] The second og these lines is from Marlowe's Hero und Leander, 1637.
And yet it is not, that I bear thee love:
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,
ere while? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, That the old carlots once was master of. Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for
him; 'Tis but a peevish boy:8-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:But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes
3 That the old carlot -] i. e. peasant, from carl or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage.
a peevish boy.] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies week, silly.
Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the dif
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd
For what had he to do to chide at me?
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write it straight; . The matter's in my head, and in my heart:
I will be bitter with him, and passing short:
· ACT IV. SCENE I. The same.
Enter ROSALIND, Celia, and JAQUES. Jaq. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.
Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow.'
Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards.
Jag. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing,
Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
Jag, 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;? nor the lover's, which is all these: 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.
Enter Orlando. 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 verse.
[Exit. Ros. Farewell, 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!
7 me which is nice;] i. e. silly, trifing. 8 - disable --] i e. undervalue.
- swam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen