352

Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly plaid,
Between the pale complexion of true love,
And the red glow of fcorn and proud difdain;
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.

Rof. O come, let us remove;

The fight of lovers feedeth thofe in love:
Bring us but to this fight, and you fhall fay
I'll prove a busy Actor in their Play.

[Exeunt.

Changes to another part of the Foreft.

Sil. Sw!

Enter Silvius and Phebe.

WEET Phebe, do not fcorn me; do not,
Phebe;

Say, that you love me not; but fay not fo

In bitterness; the common executioner,

Whose heart th' accuftom'd fight of death makes

hard,

Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,

8 will

But firft begs pardon : you fterner be

Than he that deals, and lives by, bloody drops.

Enter Rofalind, Celia and Corin.

Phe. I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell'ft me, there is murther in mine eyes;
'Tis pretty, fure, and very probable,

8

will you ferner be,

Than He that dies and lives by bloody drops?
This is spoken of the executioner.

He lives indeed, by bloody

Drops, if you will: but how does he die by bloody Drops?
that deals and lives, &C.
The poet must certainly have wrote -
i. e. that gets his bread by, and makes a trade of cutting off
heads: But the Oxford Editor makes it plainer. He reads,

Than he that lives and thrives by bloody drops.

That

That eyes, that are the frail'ft and fofteft things,
Who fhut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murtherers!—
Now do I frown on thee with all my heart,

And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
Now counterfeit to fwoon; why, now fall down;
Or if thou can'ft not, oh, for fhame, for fhame,
Lie not, to fay mine eyes are murtherers.

Now fhew the wound mine eyes have made in thee;
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some fear of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impreffure

Thy Palm fome moment keeps: but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;
Nor, I am fure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

Sil. O dear Phebe,

If ever (as that ever may be near)

You meet in fome fresh cheek 9 the power of fancy, Then fhall you know the wounds invisible

That love's keen arrows make.

Phebe. 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 fhall not pity thee.

Rof. And why, I pray you? who might be your mother,

'That you infult, exult, and rail, at once

9 The power of fancy,] i. e. the arms of Love: As poets talk of the darts of Cupid in the Eyes of their Miftreffes.

That you infult, exult, and ALL, at once] If the Speaker intended to accufe the perfon spoken to only for infulting and exfulting then, inftead of all at once, it ought to have been, both at once. But by examining the crime of the perfon accufed, we fhall discover that the line is to be read thus,

That you infult, exult, and RAIL, at once.

For these three things Phebe was guilty of. But the Oxford Editor improves it, and, for rail at once, reads domineer.

VOL. II.

Over the wretched? what though you (a) have beauty,
(As, by my faith, I fee no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed,)
Muft you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? why do you look on me?
I fee no more in you than in the ordinary
2 Of nature's fale-work: odds, my little life!
I think, the means to tangle mine eyes too:
No, faith, proud miftrefs, hope not after it;
'Tis not your inky brows, your black filk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
3 That can entame my fpirits to your worship.
You foolish fhepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy South, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than fhe a woman. 'Tis fuch fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children;
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatter her;
And out of you the fees herself more proper,
Than any of her lineaments can fhow her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heav'n, 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 found to be a scoffer:

So

2 Of nature's fale-work:] i. e. those works that nature makes up carelefly and without exactnefs. The allufion is to the practice of Mechanicks, whofe work befpoke is more elaborate, than that which is made up for chance-cuftomers, or to fell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work.

3 That can ENTAME my spirits to your worship.] I fhould rather think that Shakespear wrote ENTRAINE, draw, allure.

4 Foul is moft foul, being FOUL to be a fcoffer:] The only fente of this is, An ill-favoured perfon is moft ill favoured, when, if he be ill-favoured, he is a fcoffer. Which is a deal too abfurd [(a) have beauty. Anonymus.-Vulg, have no beauty.]

to

So take her to thee, fhepherd; fare you well.

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.

Rof. He's fallen in love with your foulnefs, and fhe'll fall in love with my anger.-If it be fo, as fast as fhe answers thee, with frowning looks, I'll fauce her with bitter words. Why look you fo upon me?

Phe. For no ill will I bear you.

Rof. I pray you, do not fall in love with me;
For I am falfer than vows made in wine;

Befides, I like you not. If
If you will know my house,
'Tis at the tuft of Olives, here hard by:
Will you go, Sifter? fhepherd, ply her hard:
Come, fifter; fhepherdefs, look on him better,
And be not proud; tho' all the world could fee,
None could be so abus'd in fight as he.

Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Rof. Cel. and Corin. Phe. (a) Deed fhepherd, now I find thy Saw of might;

Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first fight?
Sil. Sweet Phebe!

Phe. Hah: what fay'ft thou, Silvius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why I am forry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Sil. Where-ever forrow is, relief would be;

If you do forrow at my grief in love,

By giving love, your Sorrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou haft my love; is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would have you.

Phe. Why, that were Covetoufness.

Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;

to come from Shakespear; who, without question, wrote, Foul is moft foul, being FOUND to be a Scoffer:

i. e. where an ill-favour'd perfon ridicules the defects of others, it makes his own appear exceffive.

[(a) Deed shepherd, Oxford Editor-Vulg. Dead Shepherd.]

A a 2

And

And yet it is not, that I bear thee love;
But fince that thou canft talk of love fo well,
Thy company, which erft was irksome to me,
I will endure; and I'll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompence,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ❜d.
Sil. So holy and fo perfect is my love,

And I in fuch a poverty of grace,

That I fhall think it a moft plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man

That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A fcatter'd fmile, 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, tho' I ask for him; ""Tis but a peevish boy, yet he talks well. "But what care I for words? yet words do well, "When he that speaks them, pleases thofe that hear: "It is a pretty youth, not very pretty;

"But, fure, 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 very tall, yet for his years he's tall; "His leg is but fo fo, and yet 'tis well;

"There was a pretty redness in his lip, "A little riper, and more lufty red

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas juft the "difference

"Betwixt the conftant red and mingled damask. "There be fome women, Silvius, had they mark'd

" him

"In parcels as I did, would have gone near

" To