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Aud. Do you wish, then, that the gods had made me Touch. Come, sweet Audrey : poetical ?

We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Touch. I do, truly ; for thou swear'st to me, thou art Farewell, good master Oliver! Not honest : now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some

O sweet Oliver ! O brave Oliver ! hope thou didst feign.

Leave me not behind thee : Aud. Would you not have me honest ?

But wend away, begone, I say, ouch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured;

I will not to wedding bind? thee. for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce

[Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY. to sugar.

Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave Jaq. [Aside.] A material fool.

of them all shall flout me out of my calling.

[Excit. Aud. Well, I am not fair, and therefore, I pray the

SCENE IV.-The Same. Before a Cottage. gods, make me honest ! Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

Ros. Never talk to me: I will weep. Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am Cel. Do, I prythee; but yet have the grace to confoul.1

sider, that tears do not become a man. Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness :

Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may Cel. As good cause as one would desire : therefore be, I will marry thee; and to that end, I have been weep. with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village, Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. who hath promised to meet me in this place of the Cel. Something browner than Judas's. Marry, his forest, and to couple us.

kisses are Judas's own children. Jaq. [Aside.] I would fain see this meeting.

Ros. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. Aud. Well, the gods give us joy.

Cel. An excellent colour : your chestnut was ever Touch. Amen. A man might, if he were of a fearful the only colour. heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. touch of holy bread. But what though ? Courage! As horns are odious, Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: they are necessary. It is said,-many a man knows a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; no end of his goods : right; many a man has good the very ice of chastity is in them. horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the Ros. But why did he swear he would come this dowry of his wife: 't is none of his own getting. Are morning, and comes not ? horns given to poor men alone ?2No, no; the noblest Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. deer hath them as huge as the rascal'. Is the single Ros. Do you think so ? man therefore blessed ? No: as a wall’d town is more Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think him man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; as concave as a covered® goblet, or a worm-eaten nut. and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so Ros. Not true in love ? much is a horn more precious than to want.

Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in. Enter Sir OLIVER MAR-TEXT.

Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. Here comes sir Oliver.---Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are Cel. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a lover is well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are both shall we go with you to your chapel ?

the confirmers of false reckonings. He attends here Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? in the forest on the duke your father. Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much ques

Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage tion with him. He asked me, of what parentage I is not lawful.

was? I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed, Jaq. [coming forward.] Proceed, proceed : I'll give and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when her.

there is such a man as Orlando ? Touch. Good even, good Mr. What-ye-call 't: how Cel. O, that's a brave man ! he writes brave verses, do you, sir ? You are very well met: God'ild you for speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks your last company. I am very glad to see you :-even them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his a toy in hand here, sir.--Nay; pray, be cover'd. lover ; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one Jaq. Will you be married, motley ?

side, breaks his staff like a noble goose. But all's Touch. As the ox hath his bow,5 sir, the horse his brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides.---Who curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; comes here? and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.

Enter CORIN. Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquir'd be married under a bush, like a beggar ? Get you to After the shepherd that complain'd of love, church, and have a good priest that can tell you what Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, marriage is : this fellow will but join you together as Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess they join wainscot; then, one of you will prove a shrunk That was his mistress. pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.


Well; and what of him? Touch. I am not in the mind, but I were better to Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, be married of him than of another : for he is not like Between the pale complexion of true love, to marry me well, and not being well married, it will And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,

Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. If you will mark it.

1 Homely. 2 in f. e.: Horns? Even so :-Poor men alone ? 7 with : in f. e.

8 Empty.

3 Lean, poor deer.

4 Yield you.

3 Yoke, shaped like a bow.

6 wind : in



جامعه به


0! come, let us remove :

For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.-

Sell when you can: you are not for all markets. Bring us to this sight, and you shall say

Cry the man mercy; love him ; take his offer: I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt. Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.

So, take her to thee, shepherd.--Fare you well. SCENE V.-Another Part of the Forest.

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.

I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe : Ros. He's fallen in love with your fculness, and Say that you love me not; but say not so

she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast In bitterness. The common executioner,

as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce Whose heart th' accustom'd sight of death makes hard, her with bitter words.--Why look you so upon me? Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,

Phe. For no ill will I bear you. But first begs pardon: will you sterner be

Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, Than he that kills' and lives by bloody drops ?

For I am falser than vows made in wine : Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and Corin, behind. Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, Phe. I would not be thy executioner:

'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by.-I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.

Will you go, sister ?-Shepherd, ply her hard.Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye:

Come, sister.-Shepherdess, look on him better, 'Tis preity, sure, and very probable,

And be not proud : though all the world could see, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, None could be so abus'd in sight as he. Who shut' their coward gates on atomies,

Come, to our flock. Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers !

[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;

Phe. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of might; And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; “Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ???? Now counterfeit to swoon ; why, now fall down;

Sil. Sweet Phebe ! Or, if thou canst not, 0, for shame, for shame!


Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius? Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be : Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,

If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
The cicatrice and palpable impressure

By giving love, your sorrow and my grief
Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, Were both extermin'd.
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,

Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes

Sil. I would have you. That can do hurt.


Why, that were covetousness. Sil. O! dear Phebe,

Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
If ever, (as that ever may be near)

And yet it is not that I bear thee love;
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible

Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
That love's keen arrows make.

I will endure, and I'll employ thee too; Phe.

But till that time But do not look for farther recompense, Come not thou near me; and when that time comes Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not,

Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love, As till that time I shall not pity thee.

And I in such a poverty of grace, Ros. [Advancing.] And why, I pray you? Who That I shall think it a most plenteous crop might be your mother,

To glean the broken ears after the man That you insult, exult, and all at once,

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then Over the wretched ? What though you have no beauty, A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. As, by my faith, I see no more in you

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ereThan without candle may go dark to bed,

while ? Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ?

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; Why, what means this? Why do you look on me ? And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, I see no more in you, than in the ordinary

That the old carlot once was master of. Of nature's sale-work :-Od's my little life!

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him. I think she means to tangle my eyes too.

'Tis but a peevish boy ;---yet he talks well: No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:

But what care I for words ? yet words do well, 'T is not your inky brows, your black-silk hair, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, It is a pretty youth :---not very pretty That can entame my spirits to your worship. But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him. You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him Like foggy south, puffing with wind and bain ? Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue You are a thousand times a properer man,

Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. Than she a woman: 't is such fools as you,

He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall. That make the world full of ill-favour'd children. His leg is but so so; and yet 't is well : 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;

There was a pretty redness in his lip; And out of you she sees herself more proper,

A little riper, and more lusty red Than any of her lineaments can show her.

Than that mix'd in his cheek: 'twas just the difference But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. And thank heaven fasting for a good man's love; There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him

2 capable : in f. e. 3 An allusion to Marlowe and his Hero and Leander, where the quotation is to be found.

1 dies : in f. e.

In parcels, as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but for my part
I love him not, nor hate him not, and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him;
For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:
I marvel why I answerd not again:

But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius ?

Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

I'll write it straight;
The matter's in my head, and in my heart:
I will be bitter with him, and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius.



Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, SCENE I.-The Forest of Arden.

he carries his house on his head, a better jointure, Í Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.

think, than you make a woman. Besides, he brings Jaq. [ prythee, pretty youth, let me be better his destiny with him. acquainted with thee.

Orl. What's that? Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow.

Ros. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be Jaq. I am so: I do love it better than laughing. beholden to your wives for: but he comes armed in his

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife. abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every Orl. "Virtue is no horn-maker, and my Rosalind is modern censure worse than drunkards.

virtuous. Jaq. Why, 't is good to be sad and say nothing. Ros. And I am your Rosalind. Ros. Why then, 't is good to be a post.

Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which Rosalind of a better leer than you.. is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, holiday humour, and like, enough to consent. What which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; would you say to me now, an I were your very very nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is Rosalind ? all these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, com- Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. pounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels; you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take which był often rumination wraps me in a most occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are humorous sadness.

out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great us!) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. reason to be sad. I fear, you have sold your own

Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor begins new matter. hands.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.

mistress ? Enter ORLANDO.

Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your misRos. And your experience makes you sad. I had tress, or I should thank my honesty rather than my rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience wit.3 to inake me sad. And to travel for it too!

Orl. What, out of my suit ? Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank suit. Am not I your Rosalind ?

Erit. Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would Ros. Farewell

, monsieur traveller: look you lisp, be talking of her. and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your Ros. Well, in her person I say—I will not have you. own country; be out of love with your nativity, and Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. almost chide God for making you that countenance Ros. No, 'faith, die by attorney. The poor world is you are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there gondola.-Why, how now, Orlando! where have you was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a been all this while ? You a lover ? An you serve me love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a such another trick, never come in my sight more. Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before,

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he promise.

would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had Ros. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath was drowned, and the foolish coronerst of that age clapped him o? the shoulder, but I'll warrant him found it was—Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies: heart-whole.

men have died from time to time, and worms have Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

eaten them, but not for love. Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this sight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Orl. Of a snail ?


Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, i "in which my" is the reading of the 2d folio; adopted by Knight.

3 think my honesty ranker than my wit : in f. e. 4 chroniclers : in f. e. Hanmer also suggested the change.

2 Feature.

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now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on-dis-me: t is but one cast

It is but one cast away, and so,----come, death!position, and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Two o'clock is your hour ? Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.

[all. Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Ros. Yes, faith will I; Fridays, and Saturdays, and Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God Orl. And wilt thou have me?

mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerRos. Ay, and twenty such.

ous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one Orl. What say'st thou ?

minute behind your hour, I will think you the most Ros. Are you not good ?

pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, Orl. I hope so.

and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that Ros. Why, then, can one desire too much of a good may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. thing ?--Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry Therefore, beware my censure, and keep your promise. us.-Give me your hand, Orlando.--What do you say, Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed sister?

my Rosalind : so, adieu. Orl. Pray thee, marry us.

Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines all Cel. I cannot say the words.

such offenders, and let time try you'. Adieu ! Ros. You must begin,“Will you, Orlando," ?

[Exit ORLANDO. Cel. Go to.“Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your loveRosalind ?

prate. We must have your doublet and hose plucked Orl. I will,

over your head, and show the world what the bird hath Ros. Ay, but when ?

done to her own nest. Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us.

Ros. O! coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou Ros. Then you must say,—“I take thee, Rosalind, didst know how many fáthom deep I am in love ! But for wife,

it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

bottom, like the bay of Portugal. Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; but,- Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband. There's a affection in, it runs out. girl, goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's Ros. No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that thought runs before her actions.

was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of Orl. So do all thoughts: they are winged.

madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have her, one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge after you have possessed her ?

how deep I am in love.--I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot Orl. For ever, and a day.

be out of the sight of Orlando. I'll go find a shadow, Ros. Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando: and sigh till he come. men are April when they woo, December when they Cel. And I'll sleep.

[Exeunt. wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the

SCENE II.--Another Part of the Forest. sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his

Enter JAQUES and Lords, like Foresters. hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more Jag. Which is he that killed the deer ? new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires 1 Lord. Sir, it was I. than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in Jag. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when upon his head for a branch of victory:-Have you no thou art inclined to sleep.

song, forester, for this purpose ? Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ?

2 Lord. Yes, sir. Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.

Jaq. Sing it: 't is no matter how it be in tune, so it Orl. O! but she is wise.

make noise enough. Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder. Makel the doors upon a

What shall he have that kill'd the deer? woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut His leather skin, and horns to wear. that, and 't will out at the key-hole; stop that, 't will Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

It was a crest ere thou wast born.

[Then sing him Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he

Thy father's father wore it, might say;--"Wit, whither wilt ?"

And thy father bore it: Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,

burden.] met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?

[Exeunt Ros. Marry, to say,--she came to seek you there.

SCENE III.-The Forest. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. 0! that woman

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. that cannot make her fault her husband's accusing, Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock ? let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed And here much Orlando! it like a fool.

Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. brain, Ros. Alas ! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. He hath ta’en his bow and arrows, and gone forth

Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner: by two To sleep. Look, who comes here. o'clock I will be with thee again.

Enter SILVIUS. Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what Sil. My errand is to you, fair would prove; my friends told me as much, and I My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this : thought no less :--that flattering tongue of yours won


home : the rest shall bear this


[Giving a letter. 5 Ros. reads it. 4 is gone : in f. 8. 5 The rest of this stage direction not in f. e.

1 Make fast.

2 occasion : in f. e.

3 Not in f. e.

I know not the contents; but as I guess,

Where in the purlieus of this forest stands By the stern brow and waspish action,

A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees ? Which she did use as she was writing of it,

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me,

bottom: I am but as a guiltless messenger.

The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter, Left on your right hand, brings you to the place. And play the swaggerer : bear this, bear all.

But at this hour the house doth keep itself ;
She says, I am not fair ; that I lack manners;

There's none within.
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Were man as rare as Phænix. Od's my will!

Then should I know you by description;
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt :

Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair,
Why writes she so to me?-Well, shepherd, well; Of female favour, and bestows himself
This is a letter of your own device.

Like a ripe sister : the woman low,
Sil. No, I protest; I know not the contents : And browner than her brother." Are not

you Phebe did write it.

The owner of the house I did inquire for ? Ros.

Come, come, you are a fool, Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are. And turn'd into the extremity of love.

Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both; I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand,

And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind, A freestone-colourd hand : I verily did think

He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? That her old gloves were on, but ’t was her hands :

Ros. I am.

What must we understand by this? She has a housewife's hand: but that's no matter, Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me I say, she never did invent this letter;

What man I am, and how, and why, and where This is a man's invention, and his hand.

This handkerchief was stain'd. Sil. Sure, it is hers.


I pray you, tell it. Ros. Why, 't is a boisterous and a cruel style,

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you, A style for challengers: why, she defies me,

He left a promise to return again
Like Turk to Christian. Woman's gentle brain Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect

Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? And, mark, what object did present itself!

Sil. So please you; for I never heard it yet, Under an old oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.

And high top bald with dry antiquity,
Ros. She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
" Art thou god to shepherd turn’d,

Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd "

A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Can a woman rail thus?

Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd Sil. Call you this railing ?

The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly,
Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart,

Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart p!

And with indented glides did slip away
Did you ever hear such railing ?-

Into a bush ; under which bush's shade
6 Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
That could do no vengeance to me.”-

Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, Meaning me, a beast.

When that the sleeping man should stir; for 't is
If the scorn of your bright eyne

The royal disposition of that beast,
Have power to raise such love in mine, To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.
Alack! in me what strange effect

This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
Would they work in mild aspect ?

And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Whiles you chid
I did love;

Cel. 0! I have heard him speak of that same brother:
How then might your prayers move :

And he did render him the most unnatural
He that brings this love to thee,

That liv'd 'mongst men.
Little knows this love in me:


And well he might so do,
And by him seal up thy mind;

For well I know he was unnatural.
Whether that thy youth and kind

Ros. But, to Orlando.--Did he leave him there,
Will the faithful offer take

Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ?
Of me, and all that I can make;

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos’d so;
Or else by him my love deny,

But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And then I'll study how to die."

And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Sil. Call you this chiding?

Made him give battle to the lioness,
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling
Ros. Do you pity him? no; he deserves no pity. From miserable slumber I awak’d.
Wilt thou love such a woman ? - What, to make thee Cel. Are you his brother?
an instrument, and play false strains upon thee? not to


Was it you he rescu'd ? be endured !--Well, go your way to her, (for I see, Cel. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ? love hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to Oli. T was I; but 't is not I. I do not shame her :-that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; To tell you what I was, since my conversion if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. entreat for her.-If you be a true lover, hence, and not Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ? a word, for here comes more company. [Exit Silvius. Oli.

By and by

When from the first to last, betwixt us two,
Oli. Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you know, Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,

chid me,

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