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Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess, knave of them all shall flout me out of my call. That was his mistress. ing.
(Exit. Cel. Well, and what of him.
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, SCENE IV.—The same. Before a Cottage. Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Enter Rosalind and CELIA.
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you, Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep.
If you will mark it. Cel. Do, I pr’ythee; but yet have the grace Ros. O come, let us remove; to consider, that tears do not become a man. The sight of lovers feedeth those in love :Ros. But have I not cause to weep ?
Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say Cel. As good cause as one would desire; I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [Ereunt. therefore weep. Ros. His
hair is of the dissembling co- SCENE V.- Another part of the Forest. lour.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE. Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry, his kisses are Judas's own children.
Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.
Phebe : Cel. An excellent colour : your chesnut was Say, that you love me not ; but say not so ever the only colour.
In bitterness: The common executioner, Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as Whose heart the accustom’d sight of death the touch of holy bread.
makes hard, Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, Diana : a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? them. Ros. But why did he swear he would come
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, at a this morning, and comes not?
distance. Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. Phe. I would not be thy executioner; Ros. Do you think so ?
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor Thou tellst me, there is murder in mine eye: a horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a That eyes,--that are the frail'st and softest worm-eaten nut.
things, Ros. Not true in love?
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think he is should be call’d tyrants, butchers, murderers ! not in.
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; Ros. You have heard him swear downright, And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill
Cel. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down; lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; Or, if thou canst not, 0, for shame, for shame, they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. He attends here in the forest on the duke your Now show the wound mine eye hath made in father.
thee : Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains question with him: He asked me, of what pa- Some scar of it ; lean but upon a rush, rentage I was? I told him, of as good as he ; so The cicatrice and capable impressure he laugh’d, and let me go. But what talk we Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlan
eyes, do ?
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, That can do hurt. and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart Sil. O dear Phebe, the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that If ever (as that ever may be near,). spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff You meet in some fresh cheek the power of like a noble goose : but all's brave, that youth fancy, mounts, and folly guides :-Who comes here? Then shall you know the wounds invisible,
That love's keen arrows make.
Phe. But, till that time,
comes, After the shepherd, that complain'd of love; Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, As, till that time, I shall not pity thee.
Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.) | If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love, your sorrow and my grief That you insult, exult, and all at once,
Were both extermin'd. Over the wretched ? What though you have Phe. Thou hast my love ; is not that neighmore beauty,
bourly? (As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Sil. I would have you. Than without candle may go dark to bed,) Phe. Why, that were covetousness. Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee; Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? And yet it is not, that I bear thee love : I see no more in you, than in the ordinary But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Of nature's sale-work :-Od's my little ! Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I think, she means to tangle my eyes too :- I will endure; and I'll employ thee too: No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it ; But do not look for further recompense, 'Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair, Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love, That can entame my spirits to your worship. And I in such a poverty of grace, You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain? That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then You are a thousand times a properer man,
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. Than she a woman : 'Tis such fools as you, Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to That make the world full of ill-favour'd children: me erewhile ? 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; And out of you she sees herself more proper, And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds, Than any of her lineaments can show her.- That the old carlot once was master of. But, mistress, know yourself ; down on your Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for
knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: 'Tis but a peevish boy :-yet he talks well ;-.. For I must tell you friendly in your ear,- But what care I for words ? yet words do well, Sell when you can ; you are not for all markets: When he, that speaks them, pleases those that Cry the man mercy; love him ; take his offer ; hear. Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. It is a pretty youth:-not very pretty :So, take her to thee, shepherd ;-fare you well. But, sure, he's proud ; and yet his pride bePhe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year
comes him : together ;
He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue
Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. and she'll fall in love with my anger: If it bé He is not tall ; yet for his years he's tall: $0, as fast as she answers thee with frowning His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well: looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words.-Why There was a pretty redness in his lip; look you so upon me?
A little riper and more lusty red Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, difference For I am falser than vows made in wine : Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. Besides, I like you not: If you will know my There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd house,
him 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by : In parcels as I did, would have gone near Will you go, sister ?-Shepherd, ply her hard : To fall in love with him: but, for my part, Come, sister.-Shepherdess, look on him better, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet And be not proud : though all the world could I have more cause to hate him than to love him : see,
For what had he to do to chide at me? None could be so abus'd in sight as he. He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; Come, to our flock.
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: [Exeunt Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. I marvel, why I answer'd not again : Phe. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter, Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight? And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius? Sil. Sweet Phebe,
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. Phe. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius ?
Phe. I'll write it straight; Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
The matter's in my head, and in my heart: Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. I will be bitter with him, and passing short : Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; Go with me, Silvius.
of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said SCENEI.-The same.
of him, that Cupid hath clap'd him oʻthe shoul
der, but I warrant him heart-whole. Enter Rosalind, Celia, and JAQUES. Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more Jaq. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be bet- in my sight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. ter acquainted with thee.
Orl. Of a snail ? Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. Ros. Ay, of a snail ; for though he comes Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. slowly, he carries his house on his head ; a bet
Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, ter jointure, I think, than you can make a wa are abominable fellows; and betray themselves man: Besides, he brings his destiny with him. to every modern censure, worse than drunkards. Orl. What's that?
Jag. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Ros. Why, horns; which such as you are Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. fain to be beholden to your wives for : but he
Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which slander of his wife. is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud; Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosanor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lind is virtuous. lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which Ros. And I am your Rosalind. is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these : but Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of a Rosalind of a better leer than you. many simples, extracted from many objects; Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my in a holiday humour, and like enough to con, travels in which my often rumination wraps me, sent:-What would you say to me now, an I is a most humorous sadness.
were your very very Rosalind ? Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke. reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators
, and poor hands.
when they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers, Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. lacking (God warn us !) matter, the cleanliest
shift is to kiss. Enter ORLANDO.
Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? Ros. And your experience makes you sad : I Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there had rather have a fool to make me merry, than begins new matter. experience to make me sad ; and to travel for Orl
. Who could be out, being before his beit too.
loved mistress? Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind ! Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your
Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk mistress ; or I should think my honesty ranker in blank verse.
[Exit. than my wit. Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you Orl. What, of my suit ? lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable all the be- Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out nefits of your own country ; be out of love with of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind ? your nativity, and almost chide God for making Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because you that countenance you are ; or I will scarce I would be talking of her. think you have swam in a gondola.—Why, how Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not now, Orlando! where have you been all this have you. while ? You a lover?--An you serve me such Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. another trick, never come in my sight more. Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor
Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an world is almost six thousand years old, and in hour of my promise.
all this time there was not any man died in his Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; and break but a part of the thousandth part yet he did what he could to die before ; and be
is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. have lived many a fair year, though Hero had Orl, 0, but she is wise. turned nun, if it had not been for a hot mid- Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to summer night: for, good youth, he went but do this: the wiser, the waywarder : Make the forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at taken with the cramp, was drowned; and the the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was key-hole ; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies; men out at the chimney. have died from time to time, and worms have Orl. A man, that had a wife with such a wit, saten them, but not for love.
he might say,-Wit, whither wilt? Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill till you met your wife's wit going to your neighme.
bour's bed. Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: But
Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more that ? coming-on disposition; and ask me what you Ros. Marry, to say,--she came to seek you will, I will grant it.
there. You shall never take her without her Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.
answer, unless you take her without her tongue. Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Satur-0, that woman that cannot make her fault her days, and all.
husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child Orl. And wilt thou have me?
herself, for she will breed it like a fool. Ros. Ay, and twenty such.
Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will Orl. What say'st thou ?
leave thee. Ros. Are you not good ?
Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two Orl. I hope so.
hours. Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner ; by a good thing ?-Come, sister, you shall be the two o'clock I will be with thee again. priest, and marry us.-Give me your hand, Or- Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ;-I lando :-What do you say, sister ?
knew what you would prove; my friends told Orl. Pray thee, marry us.
me as much, and I thought no less :that flata Cel. I cannot say the words.
tering tongue of yours won me:-'tis but one Ros. You must begin, Will you, Orlando,
-cast away, and so, -come, death.-Two o'clock Cel. Go to: -Will you, Orlando, have to is
hour? wife this Rosalind ?
Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Orl. I will.
Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and Ros. Ay, but when ?
so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths, that Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your Ros. Then you must say,- I take thee, Rosa- promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I lind, for wife.
will think you the most pathetical break-proOrl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
mise, and the most hollow lover, and the most Ros. I might ask you for your commission; unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be but,—I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: There a girl goes before the priest; and, cer- therefore beware my censure, and keep your tainly, a woman's thought runs before her ac- promise. tions.
Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert Orl. So do all thoughts: they are winged. indeed my Rosalind: So, adieu. Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have Ros. Well, time is the old justice, that exaher, after you have possessed her.
mines all such offenders, and let time try:
Adieu! Orl. For ever, and a day.
[Erit Orlando. Ros. Say a day, without the ever : No, no, Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your Orlando ; men are April when they woo, De love-prate : we must have your doublet and hose cember when they wed; maids are May when plucked over your head, and show the world what they are maids, but the sky changes when they the bird hath done to her own nest. are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen ; more cla- that thou didst know how many fathom deep morous than a parrot against rain ; more new- I am in love! But it cannot be sounded ; my fangled than an ape ; more giddy in my desires affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like of Portugal. Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when Cel. Or rather bottomless ; that as fast as you you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh pour affection in, it runs out. like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus,
that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, Orl. But will my Rosalinil do so?
and born of madness; that blind rascally boy,
that abuses every one's eyes, because his own Si. No, I protest, I know not the contents; are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in Phebe did write it. love :-I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow, and And turn'd into the extremity of love. sigh till he come.
I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, Cel. And I'll sleep.
[Exeunt. A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think,
That her old gloves were on, but'twas her hands; SCENE II.-Another part of the forest. She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter :
I say, she never did invent this letter ;
This is a man's invention, and his hand.
Sil. Sure, it is her’s. Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer ? Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, 1 Lord. Sir, it was I.
A style for challengers; why, she defies me, Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Like Turk to Christian : woman's gentle brain Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect victory :-Have you no song, forester, for this Than in their countenance :—Will you hear the purpese?
letter? 2 Lord. Yes, sir.
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; Jaq Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, Yet heard too much of Phebe’s cruelty. so it make noise enough.
Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, [Reads.
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? 1. What shall he have that killd the deer? 2. His leather skin and horns to wear.
Can a woman rail thus ? 1. Then sing him home :
Sil. Call you this railing ? Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn; The rest
Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart, It was a crest ere thou wast born. shall bear
Warr’st thou with a woman's heart? 1. Thy father's father wore it; this bur2. And thy father bore it :
Did you ever hear such railing ?-All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Whiles the eye of man did woo me, Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. That could do no vengeance to me.SCENE III.-The forest.
Meaning me a beast.
If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine, Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two Alack, in me what strange effect o'clock ? and here much Orlando !
Would they work in mild aspéct? Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and Whiles you chid me, I did love; troubled brain, he hath ta’en his bow and ar
How then might your prayers more? rows, and is gone forth—to sleep: Look, who He, that brings this love to thee, comes here.
Little knows this love in me :
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
Of me, and all that I can make ;
[Giving a letter. Ör else by him my lore deny, I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
And then I'll study how to die.
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!
Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no Ros. Patience herself would startle at this pity.-Wilt thou love such a woman ?-What, letter,
to make thee an instrument, and play false strains And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all: upon thee! not to be endured !--Well, go your She says I am not fair ; that I lack manners; way to her, (for I see, love hath made thee a She calls me proud; and, that she could not love tame snake,) and say this to her ;—That if she
love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will Were man as rare as phænix ; Od's my will ! not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: for her.- If you be a true lover, hence, and not Why writes she so to me?--Well, shepherd, well, a word; for here comes more company. This is a letter of your own device.