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.-[To Silvius.And she'll fall in love with my anger: I it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. [To Phebe.] 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:

my house,

Besides, I like
you not: If you will know
'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 heo.
Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe,―

Phe.

Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?

6 If all men could see you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he.

7 This line is from Marlowe's beautiful poem of Hero and Leander, left unfinished at his death in 1592, and first published in 1598, when it became very popular. It was continued and completed by George Chapman, and again printed in 1600. It was reprinted in 1821, at the Chiswick Press. It is evident that Shakespeare had the whole passage in his mind :

"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!"

If

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be;

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 further 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
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 8 once was master of.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him ; 'Tis but a peevish9 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 :—

8 Carlot. This is printed in Italics as a proper name in the old edition. It is, however, apparently formed from carle, a peasant. 9 Peevish, i. e. weak, silly.

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.
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 same.

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.

Jaques.

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 modern1 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 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; which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness 2.

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 hands.

have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.

1 Modern, i. e. common, trifling.

2 The old copy reads and points thus:-" and indeed the sunTry contemplation of my travels, in which by often rumination, raps me in a most humorous sadness." The emendation is Malone's. The second folio substitutes my for by.

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; disable3 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 clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole. Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

:

Orl. Of a snail?

Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head: a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman: Besides, he brings his destiny with him.

3 Disable, i. e. undervalue, detract from.

Swam in a gondola, i. e. been at Venice; then the resort of all travellers, as Paris now. Shakespeare's cotemporaries also point their shafts at the corruption of our youth by travel. Bishop Hall wrote his little book Quo Vadis? to stem the fashion.