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Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine

eye: 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers ! Now do I frown on thee with all my heart; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Now counterfeit to swoon ; why, now fall down, Or, if thou can'ít not, oh, for shame, for shame, Lye not, to say mine eyes are murderers. Now shew the wound mine eyes have made in thee : Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure? Thy palm some moments keeps : but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not ; Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt.

Sil. O dear Phebe, Ifever (as that ever may be near) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, * Then shall you know the wounds invisible That love's keen arrows make.

Phe. But 'cill that time, Come not thou near me: and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ; As, 'till that time, I shall not pity thee.

“ He is but coars to run a course,
• Whose shanks are bigger than his thigh;
" Yet is his luck a little worse

“ That often dyes before he die. " Where

ye

see the words course and dye used in divers senses, one giving the rebound to the other.” STEEVENS.

2 The cicatrice and capable imprifjure] Cicatrice is here not very properly used; it is the scar of a wound. Capable imprejure arrows mark. JOHNSON.

power of fancy,] Facy is here used for love, as before in Midsummer Night's Dream. JOHNSON.

Ref:

3

Rof. And why, I pray you ?-Who might be your

mother, + That you insult, exult, and all at once,

Ś Over the wretched ? What though you have beauty, (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed,) Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work:? Od's, my little life ! I think, she means to tangle mine eyes too: No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; 'Tis not your inky brows, your black Gilk hair, Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,

4-Who might be your mother,) It is common for the poets to express cruelty by saying, of those who commit it, that they were born of rocks, or fuckled by tigreffes. JOHNSON.

5. That you insult, exult, and all at once] If the speaker intended to accusé the person spoken to only for insulting and exulting; then, instead of -all at once, it ought to have been, borb at once. But by examining the crime of the person accused, we shall discover that the line is to be read thus,

That you insult, exult, and Rall, at once. For these three things Phebe was guilty of. But the Oxford edi. tor improves it, and, for rail at once, reads domineer. WARB.

I see no need of emendation. The speaker may mean thus: Who might be your mother, that you insult, exult, and that too all in a briath. Such I take to be the meaning of all at once.

STEEVERS. what though you bave no ba'ty,] Though all the printed copies agree in this reading, it is very accurately observed to me by an ingenious unknown correspondent, who figns himself L. H. (and to whom I can only here make my acknowledgements) that the negative ought to be left out. THEOBALO.

? Of nature's sale-work :) i. e. those works that nature makes up carelessly and without exactness. The allusion is to the practice of mechanicks, whose work bespoke is more elaborate, than that which is made up for chance customers, or to sell in quanti. ties to retailers, which is called fali-work. WARBURTON.

That

That can entame my spirits to your worship.
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 : 9
So, take her to thee, shepherd; -fare you

well. Pbe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.

Ros. [afide] He's fallen in love with her foulness," and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as the answers thee, with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words.-Why look you

so

upon me ?

: Thes can entame my Spirits 10 your worship.] I should ra. ther think that Shakespeare wrote ENTRAINE, draw, allure.

WARBURTON, The common reading seems unexceptionable. JOHNSON. , Foulis moft foul, being Poul to be a fcoffer:] The only fenfe of this is, An ill-favoured person is molt ill-favoured, wben if be be ill-favoured, is a fcoffer. Which is a deal too absurd to come from Shakespeare ; who, without question, wrote,

Foul is moff forel, being FOUND be a fcoffer: i.e. where an ill-favoured person ridicules the defects of others, it makes his own appear excellive. WARBURTON. The sense of the received reading

is not fairly represented ; it is, Tbe ugly seem moff ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers.

JOHNSON with her foulness,) So fin T. Hanmer, the other edi. tions, your foulness. JOHNSON. Vol. III.

X

Pbe.

Pbe. For no ill will I bear you.

Rof. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am faller 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, fifter? - Shepherd, ply her hard :Come, fifter :-hepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud. Though all the world could see, None could be fo abus'd in fight, as 'he. Come, to our flock. [Excunt Ros. Cel. and Coris.

Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy law of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe!
Phe. Hah! what say'st thou, Silvius ?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Where-ever forrow is, relief would be:
If you do forrow at my grief in love,
By giving love, your forrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou haft my love; is not that neighbourly
Sil. I would have you.

Phe. Why, that were covetoufness.
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 recompence,
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

2 Though all the world could fee,

None could be jo abusid in fight, as be] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so de ceived as to think you beautiful but he. JOHNSON.

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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.
Pbe. 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 of.

Pbe. Think not, I love him, cho' 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, fure, he's proud; and yet his pride becoines him :
He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his congue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall; yet for his years he's call }
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 himn :
For what had he to do to chide at me ?
He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And, now I am remembred, 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

X 2

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