If ever, (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, till 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.

Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Who might be your mother,

That you insult, exult, and all at once,

Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,(45)

(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 my eyes too:-
No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it;
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls,(46) nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.(47)
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ?(48)
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;

a 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 suckled by tigresses. JOHNSON.

b sale-work] i. e. made up carelessly and without exactness. Work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance-customers, or to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work. WARBURTON.

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 to-
gether;

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;

Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ?(49)

a

SIL. Sweet Phebe,―

more proper] See Two G. of V. IV. 1. 3 Outl.

Foul is most foul, &c.] i. e. homely. See supra, sc. 3. Audr. your] If Rosalind here turns to the parties before her, this reading may stand. Without this supposition, her, the reading of the modern editors must be adopted.

d None could be so abus'd in sight as he] i. e. no one could be to such a degree fascinated or blinded.

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 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 carlota once was master of.

PHE. Think not I love him, though I ask for him;"

Carlot] This word is in the old copies thus printed as a proper name; but by the modern editors in the common type and with a small initial letter. Either way presented, in substance it means the same thing, and is no more than in another form the same word; i. e. "churl" or peasant. See "Charles's Wain,” I. H. IV. II. 1. 1 Car. "Carl," Cymb. V. 2. Iach., and "fat chough," I. H. IV. II. 2. Falst.

b Think not I love him, though I ask for him] Trinculo does not more naturally betray himself, when he says: "By this

'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.(50)
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
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.

РНЕ.

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.

good light a very shallow monster: I afeard of him? a very shallow monster."

Temp. II. 2.

a a peevish boy] i. e. weak, simple. See Two G. of V. V. 2.

Thurio.

b

now I am remember'd] i. e. have my memory recalled, recollect myself.

* be. 1632.

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.

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 politick; nor the lady's, which is nice;t 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 + by. 1623, myt often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.(1)

"Modern and

a modern censure] i. e. common, vulgar. familiar things." All's Well &c. II. 3. Lafeu. See “modern ecstacy," Macb. IV. 3. Rosse.

b the lady's, which is nice] i, e. affected, over-curious in trifles. "You must appear to be straunge and nyce."

The longer thou liv'st, the more Fool. 1570.