(As, by my faith, I fee no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed)
Muft you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I fee no more in you, than in the ordinary
Of nature's fale-work:-Od's, my little life!
I think, fhe means to tangle mine eyes too :-
No, 'faith proud mistress, hope not after it;
'Tis not your inky brows, your black-filk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my fpirits to your worship 7.
You foolish fhepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy fouth, puffing with wind and rain?

here imitated: "Sometimes have I seen high difdaine turned to hot defires. Because thou art beautiful, be not fo coy: as there is nothing more faire, fo there is nothing more fading.'

I do not, however, fubfcribe to Mr. Theobald's mode of correction. Ómiflion is, I think, always dangerous. No, was, I believe, a mifprint for mo. I would therefore read-What though you have mo beauty, &c.

The word mo is often ufed by our author for more. former fcene in this play: "I pray vou, mar no mo of with reading them ill-favouredly."

Again, in Much ado about Nothing:

"Sigh no more ladies, ladies figh no mo."

my

So in a

verfes

What though you have more beauty than him, (fays Rofalind) though by my faith &c. (for fuch is the force of as in the next line) must you therefore treat him with difdain?

In Antony and Cleopatra we meet with a paffage conftructed juk in the fame manner as the prefent:

Say, this becomes him,

"(As his compofure must be rare indeed,

"Whom thofe things cannot blemish) yet &c."

MALONE.

6 Of nature's fale-work:] thofe works that nature makes up carelessly and without exactnefs. The allufion is to the practice of mechanicks, whose work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance-customers, or to fell in quanti ties to retailers, which is called fale-work. WARBURTON.

7. That can entame my fpirits to your worship.] So, in Much Ado about Nothing:

66

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand." STEEVENS.

You

You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than fhe a woman: 'Tis fuch 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 fhe fees herfelf more proper,
Than any of her lineaments Gan fhow her-
But, miftrefs, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fafting, 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 moft foul, being foul to be a fcoffer.
So, take her to thee, fhepherd;-fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together;
I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.

Rofe [afide.] He's fallen in love with her foulness, and the'll fall in love with my anger:-If it be fo, as faft as the answers thee with frowning looks, I'll fauce her with bitter words.-Why look you fo upon me?

Phe. For no ill will I bear you.

Rof. I pray you do not fall in love with me, For I am falfer than vows made in wine : Befides, 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:-Shepherdefs, look on him better, And be not proud: though all the world could fee', None could be fo abus'd in fight as he. Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Rof. Cel. and Corin.

Foul is most foul, being foul to be a fcoffer:] The ugly feem moft ugly, when, though ugly, they are fcoffers. JOHNSON.

with her foulness,] So, fir T. Hanmer, the other editions, your foulnefs. JOHNSON.

though all the world could fee,

None could be fo abus'd in fight as be.]

Though all mankind could look on you, none could be fo deceived as to think you beautiful but he. JOHNSON.

2.

Phe. Dead fhepherd, now I find thy faw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first fight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe !

Phe. Hah! what fay'ft thou, Silvius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am forry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Sil. Wherever 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 covetoufnefs.

Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;
And yet it is not, that I bear thee love:
But fince that thou canft talk of love fo well,
Thy company, which erft was irkfome to me,
I will endure; and I'll employ thee too :
But do not look for further recompence,
Than thine own gladnefs that thou art employ'd.
Sil. So holy, and fo perfect is my love,
And I in fuch a poverty of grace,

That I fhall think it a moft plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harveft reaps: loofe now and then
A scatter'd fmile, and that I'll live upon.

Phe. Know't 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 mafter of.

2 Dead fhepherd, now I find thy faw of might :-
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at firft fight?]

The fecond of thefe lines is from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1637, fig. B b. where it stands thus:

"Where both deliberate, the love is flight:

"Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at firft fight?"

This line is likewife quoted in Belvidere, or the Garden of the Muses, 1610, p. 29. and in England's Parnassus, printed in 1600, p. 261. STEEVENS.

VOL. III.

Bb

Phe

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 thofe that hear. It is a pretty youth :-not very pretty :But, fure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him: He'll make a proper man: The beft thing in him Is his complexion; and fafter 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 fo fo; and yet 'tis well: There was a pretty rednefs in his lip;

A little riper, and more lufty red

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas juft the difference
Betwixt the conftant red, and mingled damask.
There be fome 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 caufe to hate him than to love him:
For what had he to do to chide at me?

He faid, mine eyes were black, and my hair black
And, now I am remembred, fcorn'd at me :

I marvel, why I anfwer'd not again:

But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou fhalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.
Phe. I'll write it ftraight;

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

[Exeunt.

ACT

.

ACT IV. SCENE I

The Foreft.

Enter Rofulind, Celia, and Jaques.

Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.

Rof. They fay, you are a melancholy fellow.

faq. I am fo; I do love it better than laughing.. Rof. Thofe, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themfelves to every modern cenfure, worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be fad and fay nothing.
Rof. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Faq. I have neither the fcholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier'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 thefe but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps 'me in a moft humorous fadness.

Rof. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reafon to be fad: I fear, you have fold your own lands, to fee other men's; then, to have feen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Faq. Yes, I have gain'd my experience.

Enter Orlando.

Rof. And your experience makes you fad : I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me fad; and to travel for it too. Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rofalind!