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Ref. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

O, la. I must attend the Duke at dinner ; by two o'clock I will be with thee again. · Roj. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew what you would prové, my friends told me as much, and I thought no less; that flattering tongue of yours won me; 'tis but one caft away, and so come death: two o'ch' clock is your hour!

Orla. Ay, sweet Rosalind,

Rof. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty, oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful; therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.

Orla. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed iny Rosalind; fo adieu.

Ros. Well, time is the old Justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try. Adieu !

[Exit Orla. Cel. You have fimply misus'd our fex in your loveprate : we must have your doublet and hose plack'd over your head, and thew the world what the bird hath done to her own neft.

Ros; O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didit know how many fathom deep I am in love; but it cannot be founded : my affection hath an unknown bots tom, like the bay of Portugal.

Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in it, it runs out.

Rof. No, that fame wicked battard of Denus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madrels, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love ; I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the fight of Orlando ; I'll go find a shadow, and figh 'till he come. Cel. And I'll feep.



Enter Jaques, Lords, and Forefters. Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer? Lord. Sir, it was l.

fag. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman Conqueror ; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory; have you no song, Forester, for this purpose ?

For. Yes, Sir.

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, fo it make noise enough.

Musick, Song

What shall be have that kill'd the deer?
His leatber skin and horns to wear ;
Thenfing him home : -take thou no scorn(12) The reft tall
To wear the horr, the horn, the born i beat this Bura
It was a crefi, ere thou wast born.

I by fatker's father wore it,
And thy fat ber bore it,
The barn, tbe born, tbe lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to jcora.

[Exeunt. Enter Rosalind and Celia. Ref. How fay you now, is it not paft two o'clock? I. wonder much, Orlando is not here.

(12) Then fing bim bome, the rest fall bear this Burden.] This is o admirable Instance of the Sagacity of our preceding Editors, to y nothing worse. One should expect, when they were Poets, they vuld at least have taken care of the Rbimes, and not foisted in Vix at has nothing to answer it. Now, where is the Rhime to, the mu shall bear this Burden? Or, to ask another Question, where is the sense of it? Does the Poet mean, that he, that kill'd the Deer, shall be sung home, and the Rest shall bear the Deer on their Backs? This is laying a Burden on the Poet, that we must help him to throw off. In short, the Mystery of the whole is, that a Marginal Note is wisely thrust into the Text : the song being designed to be sung by a fingle Voce, and the Stanza's to close with a Burden to be sung by the whole Company.


Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to sleep: look, who comes here.

Enter Silvius,
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth,
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this :
I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltless me lenger.

Ros. Patience herself would starțle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all.
She says, I am not fair ; that I lack manners ;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me
Were man as rare as phenix ; 'odds my

will !
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.
Why writes the fo to me! well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents ;
Phebe did write it.

Ref. Come, come, you're a fool,
And turn'd into th’ extremity of love.
I saw her hand, she has a leathern hand,
A free-stone colour'd hand ; I verily did think,
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;
She has a huswife's hand, but that's no matter;
I say, she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention, and his hand,

Sil. Sure, it is hers.

Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel file,
A file for challengers ; why, the defies me,
Like Turk to Christian ; woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant rude invention;
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance; will you hear the letter?

Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.


Rof. She Phebe's me ; mark, how the tyrant writes.
[Reads.] Art thou God to shepherd turn'd,

That a maiden's beart hath burn'd?
Can a woman rail thus ?

Sil. Call you this railing?
Ref. [Reads.] Why, tby Godhead laid apart,

Warr'f-thou with a woman's heart?
Did you ever hear such railing ?

Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

That could do no vengeance to me,
Meaning me, a beast'?

If the fcorn of your bright egne
Have power to raise fuch-love in mine,
Alack, in me, what ftrange effect
Would they work in mild afpect?
W biles you chid nie, I did love ;
How then migbt your prayers moves
He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me ;
And by him feal up thy mind,
Wherber that thy youth and kind
Will the faitbful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make;
Or else by bim my love deny,
And then I'll Audy how to die.

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 inftrument, 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 66 not, I will never have her, unless thou intreat for her.”

be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more company.

[Exit Silvius.

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Enter Oliver. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones : pray you, if you know Where, in the purlews of this forest, itands A sheep.cote fenc'd about with olive-trees ?

Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbour bottom, The rank of ofiers, by the murmuring stream, Left on your right-hand, brings you to the place; But at this hour the house doth keep itself, There's none within.

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then Mould I know you by description, Šach garments, and such years : "the boy is fair, « Of female favour, and beftows himself “ Like a ripe fifter : but the woman low, “ And browner than her brother." Are not you The owner of the house, I did enquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being alk'd, to fay, we are.

Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?

Ros. I am ; what must we understand by this ?

Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkerchief was stain'd.

Cel. I pray you, tell it.

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour; and pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befel! he threw his eye afide, And mark what obje&t did present itself. Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity ; A wretched ragged man, v'er-grown 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 The opening of his mouth, but suddenly Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,



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