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Inter Rosalind and Celia.
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, My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: [Giving a letter.) I know not the contents; but, as I guess, By the stern brow, and waspish action Which flie did use as she was writing of it, It bears an angry tenour. Pardon me, I am but as a guiltless messenger. Ref. [reading.] 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 phenix. 'Odds my will! Her love is not the hare that I do hunt. Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device. be sung home, and the rest shall cularity, and of the eloquence bear the Deer on their Backs? with which he recommends his This is laying a Burden on the emendations. Poet, that We must belp him to 4 The foregoing noisy scene throw off. In short, the Myste- was introduced only to fill up ry of the Whole is, that a Mar an interval, which is to repreginal Note is wisely thrust into sent two hours. This contracthe Text: the Song being de- tion of the time we mighe imfign'd' to be sung by a lingle pute to poor Rosalind's impaVoice, and the Stanza's to close tience, but that a few minutes with a Burden to be sung by the after we find Orlando fending his whole Company THEOBALD.' excuse. I do not see that by
This note I have given as a any probable division of the acts specimen of Mr. Tbrobald's jo- this absurdity can be obviated.
. No, I protest, 1 know not the contents; Pbebe did write it.
Ros. Come, come, you're a fool,
Sil. Sure, it is hers.
Ref. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel ftile, A stile 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 let
ter? Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; Yet beard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Roj. She Phebe's me-mark, how the tyrant writes.
[Reads] Art thou God to shepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd,
this railing ? Ros. [Reads. Why, thy Godhead laid apart,
Warr's 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.
• Vengeance is used for a mischief. I
If the scorn of your bright eynę
He, that brings this love to thee,
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 infirument, and play false strains upon thee? noi 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 the love me, I charge her to love thee “ If she will 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, stands A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive-trees? s Youth and Kind.] Kind is the old word for nature.
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Cel. It is no boast, being alk'd, to say, we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
Rof. 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; aud pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befel! he threw his eye afide, And mark what object did present itself. Under an oak, whole boughs were moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity; A wretched ragged man, o'er-grown with hair, Lay fleeping 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, And with indented glides did flip away * We must read, within two hours, G4
Into a bush; under which bush's shade
Oli. And well he might so do; For, well I know, he was unnatural.
Rof. But, to Orlando - did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so:
Cel. Are you his brother?
Oli. 'Twas 1; but 'tis not I; I do not shame
oli. By, and by