No, no;

are in love too: Yet I profess curing it by Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty op. counsel.

on a toul slut, were to put good meat inio an Orl. Did you ever cure any so?

unclean dish. Ros. Yes, one; and in this manner. He Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the was to imagine me his love, his mistress : and gods I am foul.* I set him every day to woo me: At which Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul time would 1, being but a mounish* youth, ness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and be it as it may be, I will marry thee: and to liking; proud, fantastical, apisli, shallow, in- that end, I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, constant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every the vicar of the next village; who hath propassion something, and for no passion truly mised to meet me in this place of the forest, any thing, as boys and women are for the most and to couple us. part cattle of this colour: would now like him, Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. [Aside. now loath hiin; then entertain him, then for- Aud. Well, the gods give us joy! swear him; now weep for him, then spit at Touch. Amen. A man may, it he were of a him; that í drave my suitor from his mad hu- fearful heart, stagger in this aitempt; for bere mour of love, to a living humour of madness; we have no temple but the wood, no assembly which was, to forswear the full stream of the but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! world, and to live in a nook merely monastic: As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is And ihus I cured him; and this way will I said, -Many a man knows no end of his goods: take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a right : many a man has good horns, and knows sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of one spot of love in't.

his wife, 'tis none of his own getting. Horns ? Orl. I would not be cured, youth.

Even 90:- Poor men alone ;Ros. I would cure you, if you would but the noblest deer hath them as huge as thé rascall me Rosalind, and come every day to my cal. Is the single man therefore blessed ? cote, and woo me.

No: as a wall’d town is more worthier than a Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; village, so is the forehead of a married man tell me where it is.

more honourable than the bare brow of a bachRos. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you : elor: and by how much defencet is better than and, by the way, you shall tell me where in no skill, by so much is a horn more precious the forest you live: Will you go?

than to want. Orl. With all my heart, good youth.

Enter Sir Oliver MARTEXT.
Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind :-
Come, sister, will you go?

[Excunt. Here comes Sir Oliver :-Sir Oliver Martext,

you are well met: Will you despatch us here SCENE III.

under this tree, or shall we go with you to your

chapel? Exter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; Jaques at a

Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the wodistance, observing them.

man? Touch. Come apace, good Audrey; I will Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. fetch up your goats, Audrey: And how, Aud- Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the rey? am I the man yet? Doth my simple feature marriage is not lawful. content you?

Jag. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proAud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what ceed; l'il give her. features ?

Touch. Good even, good master IVhat ye Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as call’t: How do you, Sir? You are very well the most capricious + poet, honest Ovid, was met: God'ild youş for your last company: ! among the Goths.

am very glad to see you :-Even a toy in hand Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited !• worse here, Sir:- Nay; pray, be cover'd. than Jove in a thatch'd house!

[Aside. Juq. Will you be married, motley ? Touch. When a man's verses cannot be un- Touch. As the ox hath his bow, Sir, the derstood, nor a man's good wit seconded with horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man the forward child, understanding, it strikes a hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedman more dead than a great reckoning in a lock would be nibbling. little room :-Truly, I would the gods had Jaq. And will you, being a man of your made thee poetical.

breeding, be married under a bush, like a begAud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it gar? Get you to church, and have a good honest in deed and word ? Is it a true thing? priest that can tell you what marriage is : this

Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the liellow will but join you together as they join most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; wainscoat; then one of you will prove a shrunk and what they swear in poetry, may be said, pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. as lovers, they do feign.

Touch. I am not in the mind but I were betAud. Do you wish then, that the gods had ter to be married of him than of another: for made me poetical ?.

he is not like to marry me well; and not being Touch. I do, truly; for thou swear'st to me, well married, it will be a good excuse for me thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I hereafter to leave iny wife.

[.A side. might have some hope thou didst feign.

Juq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel Aud. Would you not have me honest ? thee.

Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard fa- Touch. Come, sweet Audrey: your'd : for honesty coupled to beauty, is to We must be married, or we must live in bawdry, have honey a sauce to sugar.

Farewell, good master Oliver! Jaq: A material fool!

[Aside, Nom() sweet Oliver, Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I

O brave Oliver, pray the gods make me honest! * Variable. + Lascivious. + Ill.lodged.

* Homely. + Lean deer are called rascal det. ( A foch with matter iu bin.

$ The art of fencing. Gul rewarıl you.

& Yoke


Leave me not behi’ thee;

Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
But, Wind away,

If you will mark it.
Begone, I say,

Ros. O, come, let us remove;
I will not to wedding wi' thee. The sight of lovers feedeth those in love :-

(Exeunt JAQ. Touch, and AlDREY. Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say Sir Oli. "Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt, apave of them all shall fout me out of my calling.

[Erit. SCENE V.-Another part of the Forest.

Enter Silvir's and PheBE. SCEVE IV.-The same.- Before a Cottage.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Enter RosALIND and Celia.

Phebe: Res. Never talk to me, I will weep.

Say, that you love me not; but say not so Cel. Do, I pr’ythee; but yet have the grace In bitterness: The common executioner, to consider, that tears do not become a man. Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death Ros. But have I not cause to weep?

makes hard, Cel. As good cause as one would desire; Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, therefore weep.

But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be Pos. His very hair is of the dissembling col- Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?

Enter ROSALIND, Celia, and Corin, at a disCel. Something browner than Judas': mar

tance. ry, his kisses are Judas' own children. Ros. l'faith, his hair is of a good colour.

Phe. I would not be thy executioner; Cel. An excellent colour : your chesnut was I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. ever the only colour.

Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye: Ros, And his kissing is as full of sanctity as

"Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, the touch of holy bread.

That eyes,-that are the frail'st and softest Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Who shut their coward gates on atomies,

things, Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not rrore religiously; the very ice of chastity is in Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! them.

Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; Ros. But why did he swear he would come

And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them

kill thee; this morning, and comes not?

[down; Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,

Now counterfeit' to swoon; why now fall Ros. Do you think so? Cel. Yes I think he is not a pick-purse, Now show the wound mine eye hath made in

Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. por a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains

thee : or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love?

Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but, I think, he is The cicatrice and capable impressure not in.

Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine Ros. You have heard him swear downright which I have darted at thee, hurt thee pot; te was. Cel. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes

That can do hurt. over is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the contirmers of false reckon. If ever, (as that ever may be near,)

Sil. ( dear Phebe, ings: He attends here in the forest on the duke | You meet in some fresh cheek the power of your father. Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had

fancy,* much question* with him: He asked me, of Then shall you know the wounds invisible .

That love's keen arrows make. what parentage I was : I told him, of as good as he so he laugh’d, and let me go. But Come not thou near me and, when that time

Phe. But, till that time, what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando?

Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, s, till that time, I shall not pity thee. and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, a

Ros. And why, I pray you? [ Advancing.] Who thwart the heart of his lover ;+ as a puny

tilter, That you insult, exult, and all at once,

might be your mother, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose ; but all's brave, Over the wretched ? 'What though you have that youth mounts, and folly guides :-Who (As, by my faith, I see no more in you

more beauty, comes here? Enter Corin.

Than without candle may go dark to bed,)

Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? [me? Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft in- Why, what means this? Why do you look on quired

I see no more in you, than in the ordinary After the shepherd that complain'd of love; Of nature's sale-work :-Od's my little life! Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, I think, she means to tangle my eyes too :-Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it That was his mistress.

'Tis not your inky brows, your black-silk hair, Cel. Well, and what of him?

Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream. Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, | That can entame my spirits to your worship... Between the pale complexion of true love You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,

her, Conversation. + Mistress

* Lovc.


Lake foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ? But, sure, he's proud ; and yet his pride beYou are a thousand times a properer man,

comes him :

[him Chan she a woman: 'Tis such fools as you,[dren: He'll make a proper man: The best thing in That make the world full of ill-favour'd chil. Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. And out of you she sees herself more proper, He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall: Than any of her lineaments can show her.- His leg is but so so: aud yet 'tis well : But, mistress, know yourself; down on your There was a pretty redness in his lip; knees,

[love: A little riper and more lusty red And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the For I must tell you friendly in your ear,

difference Sell when you can ; you are not for all markets: Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer; There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.

him So take her to thee, shepherd ;--fare you well. In parcels as I did, would have gone near Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year To fall in love with him : but, for my part, together;

I love him not, nor hate him pot; and yet I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. I have more cause to hate him than to love him:

Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and For what had he to do to chide at me ? she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair fast as she answers thee with frowning looks,

black; I'll sauce her with bitter words.-Why look you And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: so upon me?

I marvel, why I answer'd not again : Phe. For no ill will I bear you.

But that's all one; omittance is no quittanee Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, I'll write to him a very taunting letter, For I am falser than vows made in wine: And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius! Besides, I like you not: If you will know my Si. Phebe, with all my heart. house,

Phe. I'll write it straight; 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by:- The matter's in my head, and in my heart : Will you go, sister ?-Shepherd, ply her hard:- I will be bitter with him, and passing short: Come, sister:-Shepherdess, look on him better, Go with me, Silvius,

(Ereunt. And be not proud : though all the world could None could be so abus'd in sight as he. (see,

ACT IV. Come, to our flock.

SCENE 1.-The same. (Ereunt Rosalind, Celis, und Cozin. Pine. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of

Enter ROSALIND, Celia, and JAQUES. might;

Jaq. I pr'y thee, pretty youth, let me be betWho ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight? ter acquainted with thee. Sil. Sweet Phebe,

Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow, Phe. Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius !

Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughSil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, Sil. Wherever sorrow is, reliet' would be ; are abominable fellows; and betray themselves If you do sorrow at my grief in love,

to every modern censure, worse than drunk. By giving love, your sorrow and my grief ards. Were both extermin'd.

Jaq. Why,'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Phe. Thou hast my love; Is not that neigh- Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. bourly?

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's inelancholy, Sil. I would have you.

which is emulation; nor the musician's, which Phe. Why, that were covetousness.

is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee; proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; And yet it is not, that I bear thee love: nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the laBut since that thou canst talk of love so well, dy's, which is nice ;* nor the lover's, which is Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, all these : but it is a melancholy of mine own, I will endure; and I'll employ thee too : compounded of many simples, extracted from But do not look for further recompense, many objects: and, indeed, the sundry conThan thineown gladness that thou art employ’d. templation of my travels, in which m; often

Sit. So holy, and so perfect is my love, rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadAnd I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have To glean the broken ears after the man great reason to be sad : I fear, you have sold That the main harvest reaps: loose now and your own lands, to see other men's; then, to A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. [then have seen much, and to have nothing, is to Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me have rich eyes and poor hands. ere while ?

Juq. Yes, I have gained my experience. Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds,

Enter ORLANDO. That the old carlot * once was master of.

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: 1 Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for had rather have a fool to make me merry, than him;

experience to make me sad; and to travel for "Tis but a peevish + boy:-yet he talks well;- it too. But what care I for words? yet words do well, Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear RosaWhen he that speaks them pleases those that

lind! hear

Jag. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk It is a pretty youth :-not very pretty :

in blank verse.

(Eri * Peasant. + Silly,

* Trifling



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Roe. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, being taken with the cramp, was drowned, Fou lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable* all and the foolish chroniclers of that age found the benefits of your own country; be out of it was-Hero of Sestos. But these are all love with your nativity, and almost chide God lies; men have died from time to time, and for making you that countenance you are; or worms have eaten them, but not for love. I will scarce think you have swam in a gon- Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of dola.- Why, how now, Orlando! where have this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill you been all this while? You a lover?--An me. you serve me such another trick, never come Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fiy: But in my sight more.

come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an coming-on disposition ; and ask me what you hour of my promise.

will, I will grant it. Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturand break but a part of the thousandth part of days, and all. a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said Orl. And wilt thou have me? of him, that Cupid hath clapped him o' the Ros. Ay, and twenty such. shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole. Orl. What say'st thou ? Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Are you not good ? Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more Orl. I hope so. ia my sight; I had as lief be wooed of a snail.

Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of Orl. Of a snail?

a good thing ?-Come, sister, you shall be the Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes priest, and marry us.—Give me your hand, slowly, he carries his house on his head; a Orlando :- What do you say, sister ? better jointure, I think, than you can make a Orl. Pray thee, marry us. woman: Besides, he brings his destiny with Cel. I cannot say the words. bim.

Ros. You must begin, -Will you, Orlando, Orl. What's that?

Cel. Go to : Will you, Orlando, have to Ros. Why, horns; which such as you are fain wife this Rosalind ? to be beholden to your wives for: but he comes Orl. I will. armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander Ros. Ay, but when ? of his wife.

Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosa- Ros. Then you must say,- I take thee, Rosa. lind is virtuous.

lind, for wife. Ros. And I am your Rosalind.

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he Ros. I might ask you for your commission; hath a Rosalind of a better leert than you. a

but,--I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am there a girl goes before the priest; and, cer. in a holiday humour, and like enough to con- tainly, a woman's thought runs before her sent: What would you say to me now, an I actions. Here your very very Rosalind ?

Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and her, after you have possessed her. when you were gravelled for lack of matter, Orl. For ever, and a day. you might take occasion to kiss. Very good Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, orators, when they are out, they will spit; and Orlando; men are April when they woo, Defor lovers, lacking (God warn us !) maiter, the cember when they wed: maids are May when cleanliest shift is to kiss.

they are maids, but the sky changes when they Orl. How if the kiss he denied ?

are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clathere begins new matter.

morous than a parrot against rain; more newOrl. Who could be out, being before his be- tangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires loved mistress?

than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when mistress ; or I should think my honesty ranker you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like than my wit.

a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to Orl. What, of my suit?

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out Orl. But will my Rosalind do so?
of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?

Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.
Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because Orl, 0, but she is wise.
I would be talking of' her.

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not do this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the

doors* upon a woman's wit, and it will out at Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the

Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor key-hole: stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke world is almost six thousand years old, and in out at the chimney. all this time there was not any man died in his Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus he might say,–Wit, whither wilt? had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, yet he did what he could to die before ; and he till you met your wife's wit going to your is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he neighbour's bed. would have lived many a fair year, though Orl. And what wit could wit have to ex-:use Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a that? bot midsummer night: for, good youth, he went Ros. Marry, to say,-she came to seek you but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, there. You shall never take her without her • Undervalue. + Complexion.

* Bar the doors,


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have you.


love me

answer, unless you take her without her

Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn; 7 har best

The tongue. O, that woman that cannot make It was a crest cre thou wast born; her fault her husband's occasion, let her never 1. Thy father's father wore it'; Sthis buz nurse her child herself, for she will breed it 2. And thy father bore it : like a fool.

All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. (Exeuni. leave thee. Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two

SCENE III.-The Forest. hours.

Enter RosaLIND and Celia. Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two two o'clock I will be with thee again.

o'clock ? and here much Orlando! Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;-I Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and knew what you would prove; my friends told troubled brain, he hath ta’en his bow and arme as much, and I thought no less :—that flat

rows, and

gone forthếto sleep: Look, who tering tongue of yours won me:-'tis but one

comes here. cast away, and so,-come, death.-Two o'clock is your hour?

Enter SILVIUS. Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ;Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your I know not the contents; but, as I guess,

(Giving a letter. promise, or come one minute behind your hour, By the stern brow, and waspish action I will think you the most pathetical break- which she did use as she was writing of it, promise, and the most hollow lover, and the It bears an angry tenor: pardon me, most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that I am but as a guiltless messenger. may be chosen out of the gross band of the un

Ros, Patience herself would startle at this faithful: therefore beware my censure, and

letter, keep your promise. Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert She says, I am not fair; that I lack manners;

And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all : indeed my Rosalind : So, adieu. Ros. Well, time is the old justice that exa

She calls me proud ; and, that she could not mines all such offenders, and let time try : Were man as rare as phoenix; Od's my will! Adieu !

[Erit ORLANDO. Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: Cel. You have simply misused our sex in Why writes she so to me?-Well, shepherd, your love-prate : we must have your doublet This is a letter of your own device. (well, and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own Phebe did write it.

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents; nest. Ros. () coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, And turn'd into the extremity of love.

Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my |A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her of Portugal.

hands; Cel. Or rather bottomless; that as fast as you She has a huswife's hand: but that's no matter: pour affection in, it runs out. Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, This is a man's invention, and his hand.

I say, she never did invent this letter ; that was begot of thought,* conceived of

Sil. Sure, it is hers. spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, be- A style for challengers; why, she defies me,

Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, cause his own are out, let him be judge, how Like Turk to Christian woman's gentle brain deep I am in love :-I'll tell thee, Aliena, I Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect find a shadow, and sigh till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep.

Than in their countenance :-Will you hear the [Exeunt.

letter? SCENE II.-Another part of the Forest.

Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;

Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Enter JAQUES and Lords, in the habit oj

Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant Foresters

writes. Jag. Which is he that killed the deer?

Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, [Reads, i Lord. Sir, it was I.

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Can a woman rail thus ? Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set Sil. Call you this railing? the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory :-Have you no song, forester, for

Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart,

Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? this purpose. 2 Lord. Yes, Sir.

Did you ever hear such railing ?-
Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
so it make noise enough.

That could do no rengeance* to me.-

Meaning me a beast.

If the scorn of your oright eynet 1. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer?

Have power to raise such lore in mine, 2. His leather skin, and horns to wear.

Alack, in me rchat strange effect 1. Then sing him home:

Would they work in mild aspect? • Melancholy




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