but, Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee. [Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone and Audrey. Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit. SCENE IV. The forest. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep. Cel. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. Ros. But have I not cause to weep? Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour. Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. Ros. I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. Cel. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. 11 Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. Cel. He hath bought a pair of chaste 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? 20 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 covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love? Cel. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. Cel. 'Was' is not 'is' besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. 30 Ros. I met the duke yesterday and had much question with him he asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed 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 puisny 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 inquired After the shepherd that complain'd of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess Cel. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Ros. O, come, let us remove: 41 50 The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 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, But first begs pardon : will you sterner be 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, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: The cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, 10 20 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, That love's keen arrows make. But till that time Phe. As till that time I shall not pity thee. mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Who might be your Over the wretched? What though you have some 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? 40 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, You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love : 60 Sell when you can: you are not for all markets: 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. And be not proud: though all the world could see, Come, to our flock. 70 80 [Exeunt Rosalind, Celia and Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, 'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' If 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: you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love your sorrow and my grief Were both extermined. Phe. Thou hast my love is not that neighbourly? Why, that were covetousness. 90 Phe. |