No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Though 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--
many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make
thee run into,
Thou hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke
my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for
a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the
kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her
hands had milked; and I remember the
wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took
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.
Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I
break my shins against it.
Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
And mine; but it grows something stale with me.
I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.
Holla, you clown!
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