Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena. Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no cross*, if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse. 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. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, * A piece of money stamped with a cross. Thou hast not lov'd; Or if thou hast not broke from company, [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 anight* to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlett, 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. Touch. Holla; you, clown! Ros. C Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. Cor. Who calls? Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. Ros. Good even to you, friend. Peace, I say: Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. In the night. + The instrument with which washers beat clothes. Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, And wish for her sake, more than for mine owu, My fortunes were more able to relieve her: But I am shepherd to another man, And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze; And little recks to find the way to heaven Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed, 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. ⚫ Cares. [Exeunt. 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 Come hither, come hither, come hither; No enemy, But winter and rough weather. 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? Ami. More at your request, than to please my. self. Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll • Ragged and rugged had formerly the same meaning. 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 records 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. Conie, warble, come. SONG. Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. 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 Gross fools as he, An if he will come to Ami. * Disputatious. |