Typical tales of fancy, romance, and history from Shakespeare's plays; in narrative form, largely in Shakespeare's words, with dialogue passages in the original dramatic text . d [pasture-fields],Are now on sale ; and at our sheepcote now,By reason of his absence, there is nothingThat you will feed on ; but what is, come see,And in my voice a most welcome shall you be. Rosalind. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ? Corin. That young swain that you saw here but [just now],That little cares for buying anything. Rosalind. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,Buy thou the cottage, pa
Typical tales of fancy, romance, and history from Shakespeare's plays; in narrative form, largely in Shakespeare's words, with dialogue passages in the original dramatic text . d [pasture-fields],Are now on sale ; and at our sheepcote now,By reason of his absence, there is nothingThat you will feed on ; but what is, come see,And in my voice a most welcome shall you be. Rosalind. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ? Corin. That young swain that you saw here but [just now],That little cares for buying anything. Rosalind. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Celia. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,And willingly could [spend] my time in it. Corin. Assuredly, the thing is to be with me : if you like, upon report,The soil, the profit, and this kind of life,I will your very faithful feeder be,And buy it with your gold [immediately]. So Rosalind and Celia went with Corin to see the cottage, well pleased at theprospect of even so humble a home as a shepherds hut in the grand old forest. 1 Cottage.* That is, as far as my voice has any power. Act ?VII. Scenes 5-7. ~<€.**** N an open glade in another part of the forest, the hunters andlords had prepared a banquet under the trees for their exiledDuke. While they were waiting for him, Amiens, to pass thetime, sang a merry song, Jaques and the rest joining in thechorus. Under the greenwood tree,Who loves to lie with me,And tune his merry noteUnto the sweet birds throat,Come hither, come hither, come hither :Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather. Jaques. More, more ! I prythee, more. Amiens. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Jaques. I thank it. More! I prythee, more. I can suck melancholy out of asong, as a weasel sucks eggs. More ! I prythee, more. Amiens. My voice is [rough] ; I know I cannot please you. Jaques. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire you to sing. Co
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