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Thou hast not lov'd:
[Exit Sil. Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anight? to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet, 8 and the cow's dugs that her pretty chop'd hands had milk’d; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods,
5 Wearying thy hearer – ] The old copy has wearing; Corrected by the editor of the second folio. I am not sure that the emendation is necessary, though it has been adopted by all the editors. Mlone.
of thy wound,] The old copy has--they would. The lat. ter word was corrected by the editor of the second folio, the other by Mr. Rowe. Malone.
-anight --) Thus the old copy. Anight, is in the night. The word is used by Chaucer, in The Legende of good Women. Our modern editors read, o’nights, or o’night. Steevens.
batlet,] The instrument with which washers beat their coarse clothes. Johnson.
Old copy--batler. Corrected in the second folio. Malone.
9-two cods,] For cols it would be more like sense to read -peas, which having the shape of pearls, resembled the common presents of lovers. Johnson.
In a schedule of jewels in the 15th Vol. of Rymer's Foedera, we find, “ Item, two peascoddes of gold with 17 pearles." Farmer.
Peascods was the ancient term for peas as they are brought to market. So, in Greene's Groundwork of Cony-catching, 1592:
went twice in the week to London, either with fruit or pescods,” &c. Again, in The Shepherd's Slumber, a song published in England's Helicon, 1600:
“ In pescod time when hound to horne
“ Gives ear till buck be kill'd,” &c. Again, in The honest Man's Fortune, by Beaumont and Fletcher: “Shall feed on delicates, the first peascods, strawberries."
Steevens. In the following passage, however, Touchstone's present certainly signifies not the pea but the poil, and so, I believe, the word is used here: “He (Richard II) also used a peascod branch with the cods open, but the peas out, as it is upon his robe in his monument at Westminster. Camden's Remains, 1614. Here
and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, Wear these for my sake. We, that are true lovers, run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.2
Ros. Thou speak’st wiser, than thou art 'ware of.
Touch. 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. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with
Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man,
Touch. Holla; you, clown!
Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman.
Peace, I Good even to you, friend.3
we see the cods and not the peas were worn. Why Shakspeare used the former word rather than pods, which appears to have had the same meaning, is obvious. Malone.
The peaseod certainly means the whole of the pea as it hangs upon the stalk. It was formerly used as an ornament in dress, and was represented with the shell open exhibiting the peas. The passage cited from Rymer, by Dr. Farmer, shows that the peas were sometimes made of pearls, and rather overturns Dr. Johnson's conjecture, who probably imagined that Touchstone took the cods from the peascods, and not from his mistress. Douce.
- weeping tears,] A ridiculous expression from a sonnet in Lodge's Rosalynd, the novel on which this comedy is founded. It likewise occurs in the old anonymous play of The Victories of King Henry V, in Peele's Fests, &c. Steevens.
The same expression occurs also in Lodge's Dorastus and Fawnia, on which The Winter's Tale is founded. Malone.
2 so is all nature in love mortal in folly.] This expression I do not well understand. In the middle counties, mortal, from mort, a great quantity, is used as a particle of amplification; as mortal tall, mortal little. Of this sense I believe Shakspeare takes advantage to produce one of his darling equivocations. Thus the meaning will be, so is all nature in love abounding in folly. Fohnson.
Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Ros. I pr’ythee, shepherd, if that love, or gold,
Fair sir, I pity her,
will feed on; but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be.5
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, 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. [Ereunt.
to you, friend.] The old copy reads—to your friend. Corrected by the editor of the second folio. Malone. 4 And little recks -] i. e. heeds, cares for. So, in Hamlet :
" And recks not his own rede.” Steevens. 5 And in my voice most welcome shall you be,] In my voice, as far as I have a voice, or vote, as far as I have power to bid you wel. come. Johnson.
Who loves to lie with me,
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr’ythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: More, I pr’ythee, more.
Ami, My voice is ragged;7 I know, I cannot please you.
Jaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more; another stanza; Call you them stanzas?
Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques.
Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing: Will you sing?
Ami. More at your request, than to please myself.
Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you: but that they call compliment, is like the encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he renders me
6 And tune -] The old copy has turne. Corrected by Mr. Pope. So, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona:
“ And to the nightingale's complaining note
“ Tune my distresses, and record my woes." Malone. The old copy may be right, though Mr. Pope, &c. read tunę. To turn a tune or a note, is still a current phrase among vulgar musicians. Steevens.
ragged;] Our modern editors (Mr. Malone excepted) read rugged; but ragged had anciently the same meaning: So, in Nash's Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 4to. 1593: “ I would not trot a false gallop through the rest of his ragged verses," &c.
the beggarly thanks. Come sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.
Ami. Well, I'll end the song -Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree:-he hath been all this day to look you.
Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too dispútable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.
And fileas'd with what he gets,
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.
Ami. And I 'll sing it.
If it do come to pass,
A stubborn will to please,
Here shall he see,
Gross fools as he,
dispútable-] For disputatious. Malone. 9 — to live i the sun,] Modern editions, to lie. Fohnson.
To live i' the sun, is to labour and “sweat in the eye of Phæbus," or, vitam agere sub dio; for by lying in the sun, how could they get the food they eat? Tollet.
ducdame;] For ducdame, Sir Thomas Hanmer, very acutely and judiciously, reads duc ad me, that is, bring him to me.
Fohnson. If duc ad me were right, Amiens would not have asked its meaning, and been put off with “a Greek invocation.” It is evi. dently a word coined for the nonce. We have here, as Butler says, “One for sense, and one for rhyme.” Indeed we must have