You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow 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.
So, take her to thee, shepherd.-Fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together:
I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.

Ros. He's fallen in love with your foulness, and 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.

Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might;

2 He's fallen in love with YOUR foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger.] This is the text of the old copies, though changed by modern editors: it is correct, and only supposes the first part of the sentence to be addressed to Phebe, and the second to Silvius, as the continuation shows that it was. Here again Rosalind tells Phebe pretty plainly that she has "no beauty."

"Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?" Sil. Sweet Phebe,

Phe.

Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be:

If you do sorrow at my grief in love,

By giving love, your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would have you.

Phe.
Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,

And yet it is not that I bear thee love;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and I'll employ thee too;
But do not look for farther recompense,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,

And I in such a poverty of

grace,

That I shall think it a most plenteous crop

To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then

3 Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might;

"Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?"] The "dead shepherd" was Christopher Marlowe, who was killed in 1593, and whose paraphrase of "Hero and Leander," from Musæus, was not printed until 1598: he did not finish the work, but it was completed by Geo. Chapman, and published entire in 1600. The line above quoted concludes a passage in the first Sestiad, the whole of which Shakespeare seems to have had in his mind when he wrote this scene, and it runs thus :--

"It lies not in our power to love or hate,

For will in us is over-ruled by fate.

When two are stripp'd, long ere the course begin,

We wish that one should lose, the other win :

And one especially we do affect

Of two gold ingots, like in each respect.

The reason no man knows : let it suffice,
What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?"

A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere while?

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft;
And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds,
That the old carlot once was master of1.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him.
'Tis but a peevish boy;-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 him.
He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.

He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall.
His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well:

There was a pretty redness in his lip;
A little riper, and more lusty red

Than that mix'd in his cheek: 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
In parcels, as I did, would have gone near

To fall in love with him; but for my part

I love him not, nor hate him not, and yet

I have more cause' to hate him than to love him;

For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:

I marvel why I answer'd not again:

But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.

4 That the old CARLOT once was master of.] "Carlot," in the old copies, is printed in Italic, and with a capital letter, as if the printer thought it a name. Douce says, that "it is a word of Shakespeare's coinage:" it is derived from carl, and means a peasant.

5 I have more cause- -] This is the improvement of the second folio, the first reading only, "Have more cause," and omitting I, which seems necessary to the metre. The correction was adopted by Malone and Steevens, and others.

I'll write to him a very taunting letter,

And thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

Phe.

I'll write it straight;

The matter's in my head, and in my heart:
I will be bitter with him, and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

The Forest of Arden.

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.

Jaq. I am so I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows', and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Jaq. 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 politic; 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;

6 — let me BE better acquainted with thee.] The first folio reads, defectively, let me better acquainted with thee ;" and the second folio, "let me be better acquainted with thee." No doubt the word "be" had accidentally dropped out. 7 - are ABOMINABLE fellows,] Spelt abhominable in the old copies. See vol. i. p. 346, note 3.

which, by often rumination, wraps me in 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! where have you been all this while? You a lover?-An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant him heartwhole.

8

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

which, BY often rumination,] In the first folio, in is inserted before "which," and is apparently redundant: the second folio substitutes my for "by;" but the proper cure for the defect is, evidently, to omit in.

9 - DISABLE all the benefits of your own country ;] i. e. underrate them.