SCENE V.-Another part of the forest. Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: you love me not; but say not so Say, that In bitterness: The common executioner, Whose heart th' 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. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, eye : That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! 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 impressure Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. If ever, (as that ever may be near,) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, That love's keen arrows make. Phe. But, till that time, Come not thou near me: and, when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; As, till that time, I shall not pity thee. Ros. And why, I pray you? [Advancing.] Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched? What though you have more beauty, (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed,) Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? Υ And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as fast as sh answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her wit). 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, For I am falser than vows made in wine: Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house, "Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by : Will you go, sister?-Shepherd, ply her hard :Come, sister :-Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud: though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as he. Come, to our flock. [Exeunt ROSALIND, Celia, and CORIN, 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. Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; If you do sorrow at my grief in love, Phe. Thou hast my love; Is not that neighbourly? Phe. Why, that were covetousness. And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere while? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, That the old carlot once was master of. Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him : A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius? [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The same. Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES. Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. |