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SCENE II.

AS YOU LIKE IT. Inlov lower, sed the most navorthgel le

Another part of the Forest.

Rod, that may be choxa out of typen of the whitel: Oberefore bevute

Enter Jaques and Lords, in the habit of the Fo

resters.

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La Well

, fine is the old jestice that is all nect obradin, aed les time 17: Ader Cod Post here simply misus'd ourse is on

Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 1 Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Romar 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 ?

2 Lord. Yes, sir.

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

prite: w mos hare your doodlet and his ore your bead, and show the world rush

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hich done to ber ova sest

RO, COL, C, my pretty little they didnt know how many hatboa depla Lore! Bat it can be sounded; my affects

known bottom, like the Bay of Portugal Cd. Or rather bottomless, that all

SONG,

pour afwtion in, it runs out.

The rest

Ro. No, that same wided bastard that vw begot of thought, coacem do As dory of madness; that blind rarely abans etery ope's eyes, because his art 2

ha de judge, how deep lama

bre, 4 bed, I cannot be out of Dr.1940: I'll go find a shadow, and som

1. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer? 2. His leather skin, and horns to wear.

1 Then sing him home: Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn; shall bear It was a crest ere thou wast born;

this bur

den, 1. Thy father's futher wore it;

2. And thy father bore it : All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,

Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt.

Cd. And I'll sleep

Melancholy.

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Enter Rosalind and Celia.

O

S T

Y

Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock ? and here much Orlando!

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.

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Enter Silvius.

R

(Giving a letter.

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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 messenger.

Ros. Patience herself would startle 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 phoenix; Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do bunt:
Why write she so to me?-Well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

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

Come, come, you are a tool, And turn'd into the extremity of love.

Ros.

I saw her hand : she has a leather hand,
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hauds;

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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.

Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, A style for challengers; why, she 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. Ros. She Phebes me; Mark how the tyrant writes.

Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, [Reads.

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd-
Cap a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call

you this railing ?
Ros, Why, thy godhead laid apart,

Warrist thou with a woman's heurt ? Did you ever hear such railing ?

While the eye of man did woo me,

That could do no vengeance* to me.
Meaning me a beast.

If the scorn of your bright eynet
Hade power to raise such love in nine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspéct ?
Whiles you chid me, I did love;
How then might your prayers move?
He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me :
Aind by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind I
Will the faithful offer take
of me, and all that I can inake;

sil

. My erraad is to you, fair soet,

My geole Poebe bid me give you ther: I knov Dol the content, but, as I pray by the stere bror, and vaspus action

Whaca se did use as she was writing oʻh It beans an angry tenour: pardon bil, I am but as a guiltless messenger.

Ros. Patience herself rould startet
Aod play the swaggercr; bear this text

was, I am not fair, that I lad med

calis De proud; and, that ske could be
Herr man as rare as daar; Ona
fer lore pox the hare that I do buat

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by write ste so to me: _Well, shepherd

15 15 a letter of your own device. Jd. No, I protest, I kaow not the cute

Come, come, you are

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he did write it.

Na into the ertretut of love

ber baad: she has a leathern tant stone-colour'd haod; / renir did the her old glores were on, burimas de la

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Sil. Call you this chiding? Cel. Alas, poor shepherd ! Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a womau?-What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! Dot 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.

[Erit Silvius.

Enter Oliver.

Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if yok

know
Where, in the purlieus* of this forest, stands
A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?
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 :
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,
There's none within.

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then I should know you by description ;
Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair,
Of female

favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: but the woman low,
And browner than her brother. Are not you
The owner of the house I did inquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are:
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;

F

* Environs of a forest.

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1

Scene III. AS YOU LIKE IT. 409
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 shane; 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 aside,
And, mark, what object 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'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
The opening of his inoutlı ; but suddenly
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
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 :
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel. 0, I have heard him speak of that same bro.

ther;
And he did rendert him the most unnatural,
That liv d’mongst men.
oli.

And well he might do so,
For well I know he was unnatural.

Ros. But, to Orlando;-Did he leave him there,
Tood to the suck'd and hungry lioness?

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Semale farour, and bestows himely ike a ripe sister: but the woman los, nd brooner than her brother. Are bat le owner of the house I did inquire far? fel. It is no borst, being ask'a, to se},

V. Orlando doth commend him to falar

* Handkerchief. VOL. II.

+ Describe,

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