Cor.
That is the way to make her scorn you still.

Sil.
O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!

Cor.
I partly guess, for I have lov'd ere now.

Sil.
No Corin, being old, thou can'st not guess,
Tho' in thy youth thou wast as true a lover,
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow;
But if thy love were ever like to mine,
(As sure I think did never man love so)

How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasie?

Cor.
Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

&plquo;Sil.
&plquo;Oh thou didst then ne'er love so heartily;
&plquo;If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
&plquo;That ever love did make thee run into,
&plquo;Thou hast not lov'd;
&plquo;Or if thou hast not sate as I do now,
&plquo;Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
&plquo;Thou hast not lov'd.
&plquo;Or if thou hast not broke from company,
&plquo;Abruptly as my passion now makes me,
&plquo;Thou hast not lov'd.
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit Sil.

Ros.
Alas poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found my own.

Clo.

And I mine; I remember when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-nights to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, said with weeping tears, wear these for my sake. We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love, mortal in folly.

Ros.

Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of.

Clo.

Nay I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit, 'till I break my shins against it.

Ros.

Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion is much upon my fashion.

Clo.
And mine, but it grows something stale with me.

Cel.
I pray you, one of you question yond man,
If he for gold will give us any food,

I faint almost to death.

Clo.
Holla; you clown.

Ros.
Peace fool, he's not thy kinsman.

Cor.
Who calls?

Clo.
Your betters, Sir.

Cor.
Else they are very wretched.

Ros.
Peace I say; good even to you, friend.

Cor.
And to you, gentle Sir, and to you all.

Ros.
I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desart place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest our selves, and feed;
Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd,
And faints for succour.

Cor.
Fair Sir, I pity her,
And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her;
But I am shepherd to another man,
And do not sheer the fleeces that I graze;
My master is of churlish disposition,
And little wreaks to find the way to heav'n
By doing deeds of hospitality:
Besides, his coat, his flocks, and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheep-cote now,
By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

Ros.
What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?

Cor.
That young swain that you saw here but ere while,
That little cares for buying any thing.

Ros.
I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

Cel.
And we will mend thy wages.

I like this place, and willingly could waste
My time in it.

Cor.
Assuredly the thing is to be sold;
Go with me; if you like upon report,
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,
I will your very faithful feeder be,
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt.

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