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SCENE II.

Enter JAQUES, Lords and Foresters.

Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer?
Lord. Sir, it was I.

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

For. Yes, sir.

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

Musick, SONG.

1. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer?

2. His leather skin, and horns to wear.

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SCENE III.

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..

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 she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me,

I am but as a guiltless messenger.

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Ros. [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 phoenix: 'Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt :

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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.

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, 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 : →

letter?

- Will you hear the

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

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Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.—

Meaning me a beast.

If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect

Would they work in mild aspect?

Whiles chid me,

you

I did love;

How then might your prayers move?

He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make ;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I'll study how to die.

Sil. Call you this chiding?

Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!

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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. [Exit SILVIUS.

Enter

Enter OLIVER.

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

know

Where in the purlieus of this forest, stands

A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?

310

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 should I know you by description;

Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair, 320 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;
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 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.

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Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you,

He left a promise to return again

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