Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily,
If thou remembrest not the slightest folly,
That euer loue did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now,
Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise,
Thou hast not lou'd.
Or if thou hast not broke from companie,
Abruptly as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lou'd.
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe.
Enter.
Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would,
I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne
Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I broke my sword vpon a stone, and bid him take that for comming a night to Iane Smile, and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I tooke two cods, and giuing her them againe, said with weeping teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true Louers, runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in nature, so is all nature in loue, mortall in folly
Ros. Thou speak'st wiser then thou art ware of
Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till
I breake my shins against it
Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion,
Is much vpon my fashion
Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with
mee
Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man,
If he for gold will giue vs any foode,
I faint almost to death
Clo. Holla; you Clowne
Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman