Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance.

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.

Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean 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
That can do hurt.

the author of an highly popular work which yet retains some degree of celebrity, the Anatomy of MELANCHOLY. The memorial of Dr. John Burton consisting of only four lines; the two last of which are;

"Cui Vitam pariter et Mortem

Dedit MELANCHOLIA."

A living memory, or a deathless one, and Death.

capable impressure] Capable is "able to receive." Johns. Dict. Capable impressure," therefore, is a stamp or hollow of such description.

b Nor-there is no, &c.] This second negative, which is altogether a redundancy or expletive, is used for the purpose of shewing the earnestness of the speaker, and more strongly enforcing the thing said.

"O horror, horror, horror! tongue nor heart

Cannot conceive nor name thee." Macb. II. 3. Macd.

See Tw. N. the opening of A. II. Anton.

* lean but.

1632.

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.

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.

Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Who might be your mother,

That you insult, exult, and all at once,

Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty, (45)

(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 eye-balls,(46) nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.(47)
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ?(48)
You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than she a woman: 'Tis such fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children:
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;

a Who might be your mother] It is common for the poets to express cruelty by saying, of those who commit it, that they were born of rocks, or suckled by tigresses. JoHNSON.

b sale-work] i. e. made up carelessly and without exactness. Work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance-customers, or to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work. WARBURTON.

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.

PHE. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year to-
gether;

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 abus'd 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 lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight? (49)

SIL. Sweet Phebe,

more proper] See Two G. of V. IV. 1. 3 Outl.

b Foul is most foul, &c.] i. e. homely. See supra, sc. 3. Audr. e your] If Rosalind here turns to the parties before her, this reading may stand. Without this supposition, her, the reading of the modern editors must be adopted.

d None could be so abus'd in sight as he] i. e. no one could be to such a degree fascinated or blinded.

no nas j

SIL. I would hav: TIL.

PHE.

Silvius, the time was at
And yet it is not, thr
But since that that am:
Thy company, icar
I will endure: an
But do not look -
Than thine own:

SIL. So holv.

And I in such

That I shall t

To glean th
That the r
A scatter