Enter CORIN

Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired 50 After the shepherd that complain'd of love,

Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.

Cel.

Well, and what of him?

Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.

Ros.
O, come, let us remove:
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
Bring us to this sight, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Another part of the forest.

Enter SILVIUS and PHEbe.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not,
Phebe;

Say that you love me not, but say not so

In bitterness. The common executioner,

Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard,

Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck

But first begs pardon: will you sterner be

Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?

61. A verse with a mono

syllabic first foot.

5. Falls, lets fall.

6. But first begs, without first

begging.

7. dies and lives by bloody drops, subsists all his life long by bloodshed.

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN behind.

Phe. I would not be thy executioner :
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye:
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,

That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;

And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:

Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers!

ΤΟ

Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: 20
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,

The cicatrice and capable impressure

Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine

eyes,

Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,

Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes

If ever, as that ever may be near,

You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible

That love's keen arrows make.

Phe.

30

But till that time

Come not thou near me: and when that time

comes,

Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;

As till that time I shall not pity thee.

23. cicatrice, scar-like mark. ib. capable impressure, dinted

impression.
29. fancy, love.

Ros. And why, I pray you? Who might be

your mother,

That you insult, exult, and all at once,

Over the wretched?

beauty,

What though you have no

As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed-
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too!
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it :
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you

That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children:
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love :
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can: you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer:
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well.

43. sale-work, ready-made

goods.

46. Dark hair and brows were disparaged at the court of the auburn-haired queen.

beads.

40

50

60

48. to your worship, to adore you.

51. properer, more handsome. 63. Ugliness is ugliest in an

47. bugle, like black glass ugly man who scoffs.'

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year

together:

I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.

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?

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.

Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud: though all the world could see,
None could be so abused in sight as he.

Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt Rosalind, Celia and Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of

might,

'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?'

Sil. Sweet Phebe,―

Phe.

Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius?

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be:

If you do sorrow at my grief in love,

By giving love your sorrow and my grief

Were both extermined.

70

80

Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? 90

Where both deliberate, the love is slight;

Sil. I would have you.

Phe.

Why, that were covetousness.

Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,

And yet it is not that I bear thee love;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Sil. So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for

him;

'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well;
But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth: not very pretty :

But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes
him :

He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence his eye did heal it up.

He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall :
His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well:

There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red

108. carlot, clown, rustic.

100

IIO

120