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Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell me Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman? where it is.

Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by Sir Oli. Truly she must be given, or the marriage is the way, you shall tell me, where in the forest you live. not lawful. Will you go?

Jaq: [Discovering himself.) Proceed, proceed; I'll Orl. With all my heart, good youth.

give her. Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind.—Come, sister, Touch.Good even, good master What ye call't. How will you go?

(Exeunt. do you, sir ? You are very well met: God'ild you for SCENE III.

your last company: I am very glad to see you. — Even Enter Touchstone and Audrey; JAQUEs at a distance a toy in hand here, sir. – Nay; pray, be cover'd. observing them.

Jaq. Will you be married, motley? Touch. Come apace, good Audrey! I will fetch up Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, your goats, Audrey: and how, Andrey ? am I the and the faulcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and man yet? Doth my simple feature content you? as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. Aud. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! whát features? Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, he

Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the church and have a good priest, that can tell you what Goths.

marriage is : this fellow will but join you together as Jaq. Oknowledge ill-inhabited! worse than Jove in they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk a thatch'd honse !

[ Aside. pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. Touch. When a man's verses cannot be understood, Touch I am not in the mind, but I were better to nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child, be married of him than of another: for he is not like understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great to marry me well; and not being well married, it will reckoning in a little room :— truly, I would the gods be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. had made thee poetical.

[Aside. Aud. I do not know, what poetical is. Is it honest in Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee! deed and word? Is it a true thing?

Touch. Come, sweet Audrey; Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what Farewell, good master Oliver ! they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do Not- sweet Oliver, feign.

O brave Oliver, Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made me Leave me not beli' thee: poetical?

But-Wind away, Touch. I do, truly: for thou swear'st to me, thou art

Begone, I say, honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some I will not to wedding wi’ thee. hope thou didst feign.

[Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey. Áud. Would you not have me honest?

Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit. for honesty coupled to beauty,is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

SCENE IV. - The same. Before a Cottage. Jag. A material fool!

[ Aside.

Enter Rosalind and Celia. Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the Rus. Never talk to me, I will weep. gods make me honest!

Cel. Do, I pr’ythee; but yet have the grace to conTouch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul sider, that tears do not become a man. slut, we re to put good meat into an unclean dish. Ros. But have I not cause to weep ?

Aud. I am not a slut,though I thank the gods I am foul. Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! weep! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. be, I will marry thee: and to that end, I have been cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry, his with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village; kisses are Judas's own children. who hath promised to meet me in this place of the fo- Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour. rest, and to couple us.

Cel. An excellent colour : your chesnut was ever the Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. [Aside. only colour. Aúd. Well, the gods give usjoy!

Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful of holy bread. heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana : a temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they the very ice of chastity is in them. are necessary. It is said,

-Many a man knows no end Ros. But why did he swear, he would come this mornof his goods : right: many a man has good horns, and ing, and comes not ? knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. wife; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so. Ros. Do you think so? -- Poor men alone? -No, no; the noblest deer hath Cel. Yes I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horsethem as huge as the rascal. Is the single man there- stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as fore blessed? No: as a wall’d town is more worthier concave, as a cover'd goblet, or a worm-caten nut. than a village, so is the forehead of a married man Ros. Not true in love? more honourable, than the bare brow of a bachelor: Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in. and by how much defence is better, than no skill, by Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. so much is a horn more precious, than to want.

Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is no Enter Sir Oliver MAR-TEXT.

stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the Here comes sir Oliver. -Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are confirmers of false reckonings. He attends here in the well met. Will you dispatch us here under this tree, forest on the duke, your father. or shall we go with you to your chapei?

Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much ques

tion with him: he asked me, of what parentage I was? |(As, by my faith, I see no more in you,
I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh'd, and let me Than without candle may go dark to bed,)
go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
a man, as Orlando?

Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, I see no more in you, than in the ordinary speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks of nature's sale-work :-Od's my little life! them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his I think, she means to tangle my eyes too :lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one No,'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; side, breaks his stail like a noble goose: but all's brave, 'Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair, that youth mounts, and folly guides. – Who comes Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, here?

That can entame my spirits to your worship:
Enter Corix.

You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ?
After the shepherd, that complain'd of love;

You are a thousand times a properer man, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,

Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess,

That make the world full of ill-favour'd children: That was his mistress.

'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; Cel. Well, and what of him?

And out of you she sees herself more proper, Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,

Than any of her lineaments can show her. – Between the pale complexion of true love

But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees, And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,

And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,

For I must tell you friendly in your ear: If you will mark it.

Sell when you can; you are not for all markets: Ros. O come, let us remove;

Cry the man mercy: love him; take his offer; The sight of lovers feedeth those in love:

Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. Bring us unto this sight, and you shall

say

So, take her wu thee, shepherd; — fare you well! I'll prove a busy actor in their play. (Exeunt. Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together;

I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. SCENE V. - Another part of the forest. Ros. Ile's fallen in love with her foulness, and she'll Enter Silviu's and PhEBE.

fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: answers thee with frowuing looks, I'll satice her with Say, that you love me not; but say not so

bitter words. Why look you so upon me? In bitterness. The common executioner,

Phe. For no ill will I bear yon. Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, hard,

For I am falser than vows made in vine: Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,

Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be,

'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by:Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?

Will you go, sister? — Shepherd, ply her hard : Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and Corix, at a distance. Come sister.-Shepherdess, look on him better, Phe. I would not be thy executioner;

And be not proud: though all the world could see, I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.

None could be so abus'd in sight as he. Thou tellst me, there is murderin mine eye:

Come, to our flock.[Exeunt Rosalind, Celia,and Corin. 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,

Phe. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of might;
That eyes,—that are the frail'st and softest things, Whoever lov’d, that low'd not at first sight?
Who shut their coward gates on atomies, –

Sil. Sweet Phebe, -
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Phe. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius ?
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me!
And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down; Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be;
Or, if thou caust not, 0, for shame, for shame, If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.

By giving love, your sorrow and my grief
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: Were both extermin'd.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Phe. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly?
Some scar ofit: lean but upon a rush,

Sil. I would have you. The cicatrice and capable impressure

Phe. Why, that were covetousness. Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine eyes, Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee; Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;

And yet it is not, that I bear thee love: Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes

But since that thou canst talk of love so well, That can do hurt.

Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, Sil. O dear Phebe,

I will endure; and I'll employ thee too:
Ifever (as that ever may be near,)

But do not look for further recompense,
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Then shall you know the wounds invisible,

Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,'
That love's keen arrows make.

And I in such a poverty of grace, Phe. But, till that time,

That I shall think it a most plenteous crop Come not thou ncar me: and, when that time comes, To glean the broken ears after the man Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then As, till that time, I shall not pity thee.

A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. Ros.And why, I pray you? [./druncing.] Who might Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere be your mother

while? That you insult, exult, and all at once,

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; Over the wretched? What though you have more And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds, beauty,

That the old Carlot once was master of.

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Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; gondola.-- Why, how now, Orlando! where have you 'Tis but a peevish boy:-yet he talks well:

been all this while? You a lover? — An you serve me But what care I for words? yet words do well, such another trick, never come in my sight more. When he, that speaks them, pleases those that hear. Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my It is a pretty youth: :- not very pretty :

promise. But, sure, he's prond; and yet his pride becomes him: Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that will He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue part of the thou sandth part of a minute in the affairs of Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.

love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clap'd him He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall:

o'the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole. His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well:

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind! There was a pretty redness in his lip;

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my A little riper and more lusty red,

sight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference Orl. Of a snail ? Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him carries his honse on his head; a better jointure, I think, In parcels as I did, would have gone near

than you can make a woman; besides, he brings his To fall in love with him: but, for my part,

destiny with him. I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet

Orl. What's that? I have more cause to hate him than to love him: Ros. Why, horns; which snch as you are fain to be For what had he to do to chide at me?

beholden to your wives for: but he comes armed in He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife. And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is I marvel, why I answer'd not again :

virtuons. But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.

Ros. And I am your Rosalind. I'll write to him a very taunting letter,

Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a RosaAnd thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius?

lind of a better leer than you. Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiPhe. I'll write it straight;

day humour, and like enough to consent. What The matter's in my head, and in my heart :

would you say to me now, an I were your very, very, I will be bitter with him, and passing short.

Rosalind ? Go with me, Silvius.

(Exeunt. Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when A CT IV.

you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take

occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are SCENE I. The same.

out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn Enter Rosalind, Celia, and JAQUES. as !) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. Jag. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better ac Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? quainted with thee.

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins Rus. They say you are a melancholy fellow.

new matter. Juq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abo- mistress? minable fellows, and betray themselves to every mo Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; dern censure, worse than drunkards.

or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Jug. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Orl. What, of my suit? Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which suit. Am not s your Rosalind? is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, be talking of her. which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is poli-Ros. Well, in her person, I say, I will not have you. tic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is compounded of many simples, extracted from many almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there objects; and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me,is a alove-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with most humorous sadness.

a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before; Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see would have lived many a fair year, though Fero had other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. night: for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him Juq. Yes, I have gained my experience.

in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, Enter ORLANDO.

was drowned; and the foolish chroniclers of that age Ros.And your experience makes you sad:I had rather found it was — - Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies; have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make men have died from time to time, and worms have me sad; and to travel for it too.

eaten them, but not for love. Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Orl.I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank for, I protest, her frown might kill me.

[Exit. Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller! Look, you lisp, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disand wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your position; and ask me what you will, I will grant it. own country; be out of love with your nativity, and Orl. Then love me, Rosalind ! almost chide God for making you that countenance Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, and all. you are ; or I will scarce think you have swam in al Orl. And wilt thou have me?

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Ros. Ay, and twenty such.

Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed Orl. What say'st thou?

Rosalind. So, adieu ! Ros. Are you not good?

Ros. Well, time is the old justice, that examines all Orl. I hopeso.

such offenders, and let time try. Adieu ! Exit Orlando. Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a good Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your love'thing?.-Come,sister, you shall be the priest, and marry prate : we must have your doublet and hose plucked us.-Give me your hand, Orlando. -What do you say, over your head, and show the world what the bird hath sister?

done to her own nest. Orl. Pray thee, marry us.

Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little

coz, that thou Cel. I cannot say the words.

didst know, how many fathom deep I am in love! But
Ros. You must begin, -Will you, Orlando, it cannot be souuded; my aflection hath an unknown
Cel. Go to: Will you, Orlando, have to wife this bottom, like the bay of Portugal.
Rosalind?

Cel. Or rather bottomless ; that as fast as you pour
Orl, I will.

affection in, it runs out. Ros. Ay, but when ?

Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of Ros. Then you must say,- I take thee, Rosalind, for madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every wife.

one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; but, – 1 how deep I am in love:—I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot do take thee, Orlando, for my husband. There a girl be out of the sight of Orlando : I'll go find a shadow, goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's and sigh till he come. thought runs before her actions.

Cel. And I'll sleep.

(Exeunt. Orl. So do all thoughts: they are winged. Ros.Now tell me, how long you would have her, after SCENE II. - Another part of the forest. you have possessed her.

Enter Jaques and Lords, in the habit of Foresters. Orl. For ever, and a day.

Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? Ros. Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando ; 1 Lord. Sir, it was I. men are April, when they woo, December, when they Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman wed ; maids are May, when they are maids, but the sky conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns changes, when they are wives. I will be more jealous of upon his head, for a branch of victory. - Have you no thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen ; more song, forester, for this purpose ? clamorous than a parrot against rain; more newfang- 2 Lord. Yes, sir. led than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a mon- Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it key: I will weep for nothing, like Dia in the foun- make noise enough. tain, and I will do that, when you are disposed to be

SONG. merry; I will laughlike a hyen, and that when thou art 1 What shall he have that kill'd the deer? inclined to sleep.

2 Ilis leather skin and horns to wear. Orl. But will my Rosalind do so ?

1 Then sing him home : Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.

Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn; The rest Orl. o, but she is wise.

It was a crest ere thou wast born.

shall bear Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the 1 Thy father's father wore it ; this burwiser, the waywarder. Make the doors upon a woman's 2 And thy father bore it: den. wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, ont at the key-hole: stop that, 't will fly with the smoke Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. (Exeunt. out at the chimney. Orl. A man, that had a wife with such a wit, he might

SCENE III.- The forest. say, -Wit, whither wilt?

Enter Rosalind and Cella. Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. and here much Orlando! Ori. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? Cel. I warrant you, with pure love,and troubled brain, Ros.Marry, to say, -she came to seek you there. You he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forthshall never take her without her answer, unless you to sleep. Look, who comes here. take her without her tongue.O,that woman that cannot

Enter Silvius,
make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ;-
nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool. My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:[Giving a letter.

Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. By the stern brow and waspish action,

Or I must attend the duke at dinner; by two o'clock Which she did use as she was writing of it,
I will be with thee again.

It bears an angry tenour: pardon me,
Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways!-I knew what I am but as a guiltless messenger.
you would prove; my friends told me as much, and I Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
thought no less :-—that flattering tongue of yours won And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all;
me:- 'tis but one cast away, and so,-come, death.- She says I am not fair; that I lack manners ;
Two o'clock is your hour?

She calls me proud; and, that she could not love me, Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Were man as rare as phoenix; Od's my will! Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: mend me, and by all pretty oaths, that are not dange- Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, rous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one This is a letter of your own device. minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pa- Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents; thetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, Phebe id write it. and the most unworthy of her yon call Rosalind, that Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: And turn’d into the extremity of love. therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise. I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,

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A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think, This handkerchief was stain'd.
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; Cel. I pray you, tellit.
She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter; Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you,
I say she never did invent this letter;

He left a promise to return again
This is a man's invention, and his hand.

Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, Sil. Sure, it is her's.

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
A style for challengers; why, she defies me,

And, mark, what object did present itself!
Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, And high top bald with dry antiquity,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect,

A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Than in their countenance.-Will you hear the letter? Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;

A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Yet heard too niuch of Phebe's cruelty.

Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd Ros. She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. The opening of his mouth; but suddenly

Art thou god to shepherd tum'd, [Reads. Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?

And with indented glides did slip away
Can a woman rail thus ?

Into a bush: under which bush's shade Sil. Call you this railing?

A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart,

Lay conching, head on ground, with catlike watch, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?

When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis Did you ever hear such railing ?

The royal disposition of that beast,
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

To prey on nothing, that doth seem as dead :
That could do no vengeance to me.--

This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
Meaning me a beast.

And found, it was his brother, his elder brother,
If the scorn of your bright eyne

Cel. 0, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
Have power to raise such love in mine, And he did render him the most unnatural,
Alack, in me what strange effect

That liv'd ’mongst men.
Would they work in mild aspect?

Oli. And well he might so do,
Whiles you chid me, I did love;

For well I know he was unnatural.
How then might your prayers move?

Ros. But, to Orlando; -did he leave him there,
He, that brings this love to thee,

food to the suck'd aud hungry lioness? Little knows this love in me:

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so :
And by him seal up thy mind;

But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
Whether that thy youth and kind

And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Will the faithful offer take

Made him give battle to the lioness,
of me, and all that I can make;

Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
Or else by him my love deny,

From miserable slumber I awak'd.
And then I'll study how to die.

Cel. Are you his brother?
Sil. Call you this chiding?

Ros. Was it you he rescu'd ? Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Cel. Was't you, that did so oft contrive to kill him? Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.- Oli

. 'Twas †; but 'tis not 1: I do not shame Wilt thou love such a woman ?-What, to make thee an To tell you what I was, since

my conversion instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. endured !-Well, go your way to her, (for I see, love Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?hath made thee a tame snake,) and say this to her; Oli. By and by. That if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she When from the first to last, betwixt us two, will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, her. - If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; As, how I came into that desert place;for here comes more company.

[Exit Silvius. In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Enter OLIVER.

Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment,
Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you know Committing me unto my brother's love;
Where, in the parlieus of this forest, stands Wholed me instantly unto his cave,
A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees? There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
Cel. West of this place, down in the neigbour bottom, The lioness had torn some flesh away,
The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream,

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place: And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,

Brief, I recover'd him; bound up his wound; There's none within.

And, after some small space, being strong at heart, Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,

He sent me hither, stranger as I am, Then I should know you by description;

To tell this story, that you might excuse Such garments, and such years: the boy is fair, His broken promise, and to give this napkin, Of female favour, and bestows himself

Dy'd in this blood, unto the shepherd youth, Like a ripe sister : but the woman low,

That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. And browner than her brother. Are not

you

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Ganymede? The owner of the house I did enquire for?

[Rosalind faints. Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are. Oli. Many will swoon, when they do look on blood. Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both; Cel. There is more in it:-Cousin-Ganymede ! And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,

Oli. Look, he recovers.
He sends this bloody napkin; are you he?

Ros I would, I were at home.
Ros. I am. What must we unterstand by this? Cel. We'll lead you thither;-
Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me, I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
What man I am, and how, and why, and where Oli. Be of good cheer, youth!-You a man?

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