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'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by:-
Will you go, fister?-Shepherd, ply her hard:-
Come, fister :- Shepherdefs, look on him better,
And be not proud: though all the world could fee,
None could be so abus'd in fight as he.*
Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and Corin.

PHE. Dead shepherd! now I find thy faw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight? 3

SIL. Sweet Phebe,

PHE.

Ha! what say'st 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.

2

though all the world could fee,

None could be fo abus'd in fight as he.] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. JOHNSON.

3 Dead Shepherd! now I find thy faw of might;

Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?] The second of these lines is from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1637, fig. Bb. where it ftands thus:

" Where both deliberate, the love is flight:
“Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first 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.

This poem of Marlowe's was so popular, (as appears from many of the contemporary writers,) that a quotation from it must have been known at once, at least by the more enlightened part of the audience. Our author has again alluded to it in the Two Gentlemen of Verona. The " dead shepherd," Marlowe, was killed in a brothel in 1593. Two editions of Hero and Leander, I believe, had been published before the year 1600; it being entered in the Stationers' Books, Sept. 28, 1593, and again in 1597. MALONE.

1 1

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 recompenfe,
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 once was master of.

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 those that hear. It is a pretty youth:-not very pretty :

3 To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then

A Scatter'd smile, Perhaps Shakspeare owed this image to the second chapter of the book of Ruth :-" Let fall fome handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them."

STEEVENS,

4 That the old carlot once was master of.] i. e. peasant, from carl or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage. DOUCE. a peevish boy:] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies weak, filly. So, in King Richard III:

5

"When Richmond was a little peevish boy." STEEVENS,

But, fure, 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 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 lufty 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 faid, 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.

6 He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall :) The old copy reads: He is not very tall, &c.

For the fake of metre, I have omitted the useless adverb-very.

7

STEEVENS.

- the constant red, and mingled damask.] "Constant red" is uniform red. "Mingled damask" is the filk of that name, in which, by a various direction of the threads, many lighter shades of the fame colour are exhibited. STEEVENS.

8 I have more cause-) I, which seems to have been inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was inserted by the editor of the second folio. MALONE.

:

ACT IV. SCENE I.

The fame.

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.

JA2. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better1 acquainted with thee.

Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow. Jag. I am fo; I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern cenfure, worse than drunkards.

JAR. Why, 'tis good to be fad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

FAR. 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 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 these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many fimples, extracted from many objects: and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness.

Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reafon to be sad: I fear, you have fold your own

7

let me be better-] Be, which is wanting in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio. MALONE.

8

which is nice;] i. e. filly, trifling. So, in K. Richard III:

"But the refpects thereof are nice and trivial."

See note on Romeo and Juliet, Act V. fc. ii:

9

-my often rumination wraps me, is a moft humorous sadness.] The old copy reads in a most, &c. STEEVENS.

The old copy has-by often. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Perhaps we should rather read " and which, by often rumi, nation, wraps me in a most humorous sadness." MALONE.

lands, to fee other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

F42. Yes, I have gain'd my experience.

A

Enter ORLANDO.

Ros. And your experience makes you fad: 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 Rofalind! JAR. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse.

[Exit.

Ros. Farewel, monfieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable 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 fight more.

As this speech concludes with a fentence at once ungrammatical and obfcure, I have changed a fingle letter in it; and instead of " in a most humorous sadness," have ventured to read" is a moft humorous fadness." Jaques first informs Rosalind what his melancholy was not; and naturally concludes by telling her what the quality of it is. To obtain a clear meaning, a lefs degree of violence cannot be employed. STEEVENS.

9

-disable-] i. e. undervalue. So afterwards :-" he difabled my judgement." STEEVENS.

*fwam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the feat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes loft their religion.

The fashion of travelling, which prevailed very much in our author's time, was confidered by the wifer men as one of the principal caufes of corrupt manners. It was therefore gravely cenfured by Afcham in his Schoolmaster, and by bishop Hall in his Quo Vadis; and is here, and in other passages, ridiculed by Shakspeare. JOHNSON,

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