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Rof. 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.
Rof. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew what you would
prove, my friends told me as much, and I thought no less; that flattering tongue of yours won me; 'tis but one caft away, and fo 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 were indeed ihy Rosalind; so 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 pluck'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 didît 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.
Ros. No, that fame wicked battard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of mad. rels, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, tecause 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 seep.
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.
What shall be have that kill'd the deer?
[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.
Ref. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents ;
Rof. Come, come, 'you're a fool,
Sil. Sure, it is hers.
Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel file,
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Rof. She Phebe's me : mark, how the tyrant writes. [Reads.] Art thou God to shepherd turn'd,
Tbat a maiden's beart hath burn'd?
Sil. Call you this railing?
WarrA thou with a woman's beart?
Whiles, the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me,
If the fcorn of your bright syne
Sil. Call you this chiding?
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 ftrains 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 he will 6 not, I will never have her, unless thou intreat for her." If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
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. West 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; But at this hour the house doth keep itself, There's none within.
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you by description, Sach 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 ask'd, to say, we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
Rof. I am ; what muft we underitand 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 laft 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, o'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 luddenly Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,