Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to fleep look, who comes here. Enter Silvius. Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth, Rof. Patience her felf would ftartle at this letter, Why writes the fo to me? well, fhepherd, well, Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents Rof. Come, come, you're a fool, And turn'd into th' extremity of love. I faw her hand, fhe has a leathern hand, A free-ftone-colour'd hand; I verily did think, This is a man's invention, and his hand. Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel ftile, Than in their countenance; will you hear the letter? Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Rof. She Phebe's me; mark, how the tyrant writes. [Reads. ] [Reads.] Art thou God to fhepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? Sil. Call you this railing? Rof. [Reads.] Why, thy Godhead laid apart, If the fcorn of your bright eyne Of me, and all that I can make ; And then I'll ftudy how to die. Sil. Call you this chiding? Rof. Do you pity him? no, he deferves no pity: wilt thou love fuch a woman? what, to make thee an inftrument, and play false strains upon thee? not to be endured! Well, go your way to her; (for I fee, love hath made thee a tame fnake,) and fay this to her; "that if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she " will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat " for her". If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit Sil. Enter Oliver. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, Where Where, in the purlews of this forest, stands A fheep-cote fenc'd about with olive-trees? Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbour bottom, The rank of ofiers, by the murmuring ftream, Left on your right-hand, brings you to the place; Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Cel. It is no boaft, being ask'd, to fay, we are. Ref. I am; what must we understand by this? Cel. I pray you, tell it. Oli. When laft the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour; and pacing through the foreft,. Lo, what befel! he threw his eye afide, Under an oak, whofe boughs were mofs'd with age, A wretched ragged man, o'er-grown with hair, A green and gilded fnake had wreath'd it self, Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd A Lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching head on ground, with cat-like watch To prey on nothing that doth feem as dead : And found it was his brother, his eldest brother. Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that fame brother, And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd 'mongst men. Oli. And well he might fo do; For, well I know, he was unnatural. Rof. But, to Orlando; did he leave him there, Food to the fuck'd and hungry lioness? Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd fo: But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, And nature ftronger than his juft occafion, Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling Cel. Are you his brother? Rof. Was it you he refcu'd? Cel. Was it you that did so oft contrive to kill him? To tell you what I was, fince my conversion Oli. By, and by. When from the first to laft, betwixt us two, And, And, after fome fmall space, being strong at heart, To tell this ftory, that you might excufe Cel. Why, how now Ganimed, Sweet, Ganimed? Oli. Look, he recovers. Rof. Would, I were at home! Cel. We'll lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm? Oli. Be of good cheer, youth; you a man? you lack a man's heart. Rof. I do fo, I confefs it. Ah, Sir, a body would think, this was well counterfeited. I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited: heigh ho! Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a paffion of earnest. Rof. Counterfeit, I affure you. Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man. Rof. So I do but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. Cel. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, draw homewards; good Sir, go with us. Oli. That will I; for I must bear anfwer back, How you excufe my brother, Rofalind. Rof. I fhall devife fomething; but, I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him: will you go? [Exeunt. 3 ACT |