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Cel. An excellent colour : your chesnut was ever the only colour.

Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not ?

Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Ros. Do you think so ?

Cel. Yes : I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a wormeaten nut.'

Ros. Not true in love ?
Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not in.

Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was.

Cel. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: He attends here in the forest on the duke your father.

Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question * with him. He asked me, of what parent. age I was ; I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh’d, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ?

Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover + : as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose : but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides :- Who comes here? .

Enter Corin. Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired * Conversation,

of Mistress.

Cel.

After she shepherd that complain’d of love;
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.

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 unto 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 ?

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;

Sil.

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

thee: Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down ; Or, if thou canst not, 0, 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 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 That can do hurt.

O dear Phebe, 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 more

beauty (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, nor your cheek of cream,. That can entame my spirits to your worship.You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,

* Lore.

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 make 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.
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 her 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 ilt 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?

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 extermin'd.
Phe. Thou hast my love; Is not that neigh-

bourly?
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

ere while ? 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 peevisht 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 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. * Peasant.

+ Silly.

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