SCENE V.-Another part of the Forest. Enter SILVIUS and PHEbe. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe : Say, that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness: The common executioner, Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance. I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murtherers! And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: The cicatrice and capable a impressure, Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes, Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. Sil. O dear Phebe, If ever (as that ever may be near) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, That love's keen arrows make. a Capable-able to receive. Phe. But, till that time, Come not thou near me: and, when that time comes, Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Who might be your mother? That you insult, exult, and all at once, beauty, What though you have no (As, by my faith, I see no more in you I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. VOL. III. S Ros. He's fallen in love with your foulness, and she 'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words.-Why look you so upon me? Phe. For no ill will I bear you. Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house, Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Ros., CEL., and COR. Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; "Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?" Sil. Sweet Phebe,— Phe. Ha! what say st thou, Silvius? Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. If you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Were both extermin'd. Phe. Thou hast my love; Is not that neigh bourly? Sil. I would have you. Phe. And yet it is not that I bear thee love: And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, That the old carlot a once was master of. Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; "T is but a peevish boy :-yet he talks well ;--But what care I for words? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth :-not very pretty : But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him: He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him There was a pretty redness in his lip; A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 't was just the differ ence Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him For what had he to do to chide at me? He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; I marvel why I answer'd not again : a Carlot-churl or peasant. But that's all one: omittance is no quittance. I'll write it straight: The matter's in my head, and in my heart: I will be bitter with him, and passing short: me, Silvius. Go with [Exeunt. |