So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together:
065 I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
[066] Ros. He’s fallen in love with your foulness and she’ll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I’ll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me?
070 Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine:
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
’Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
075 Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.