Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant writes. Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?— Can a woman rail thus ? Sil. Call you this railing? Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart, Did Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? you ever hear such railing?— Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 64 That could do no vengeance ** to me.— Meaning me a beast.— If the scorn of your bright eyne Have power to raise such love in mine, And then I'll study how to die. [Reads. Sil. Call you this chiding? Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.Wilt thou love such a woman?-What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured '-Well, go your way to her, (for, I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,) and say 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 Silvius. Enter OLIVER. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if know Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees? you Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom, The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, Left on your right hand, brings you to the place : Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, And browner than her brother. Are not you The owner of the house I did enquire for? Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are. Ros. I am: What must we understand by this? Cel. I pray you, tell it. Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from He left a promise to return again you, Within an hour 66; and, pacing through the forest, Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself, Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis The royal disposition of that beast, To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead : |