Читать книгу The Complete Works of Shakespeare онлайн

864 страница из 942

Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

Thou hast not lov’d.

O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

Exit.

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 a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batler and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopp’d hands had milk’d; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods, 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.

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 me.

Cel.

I pray you, one of you question yond man,