Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.
[040] O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit.
[041] 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 [045] coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing [046] of her batlet and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked: and I remember the wooing of a peascod [048] instead of her; from whom I took two cods and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears ‘Wear these for my 050 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.
Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
Touch. Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till
055 I break my shins against it.