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Enter ROSALIND, and Celia. Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock ? and here's 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.
[Giving a Letter,
this letter, And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all : She says, I am not fair ; that I lack inanners ; 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 hunt :
250 Why writes she so to me --Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device.
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents; Phebe did write it.
Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, A freestone-coloured hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; She has a huswife's hand: but that's no matter : 260 I
say, she never did invent this letter; This is a man's invention, and his hand.
Sil. Sure, it is her's.
Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel stile,
letter? Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 270 Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Ros. 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?
Can a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call you this railing ?
Ros. [Reads.] Why thy godhead laid apart,
War'st thou with a woman's heart?
Did you ever hear such railing i
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me...
If the scorn of your bright eyne
I did love;
Sil. Call you this chiding?
299 Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no pity.– Wilt thou love such a woman ?-What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains 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 she will not, I will never have her, un« less thou entreat for her.” If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
Oli. Good morrow, fair ones : Pray you, if you know
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
Ros. 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,
332 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,
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same bro
And he did render him the most unnatural
360 For well I know he was unnatural.
Ros. But, to Orlando ;-Did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness ? I