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Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Sylv. No, I protest, I know not the contents ;
Phoebe did write it.

Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, A style 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 :-Will you hear the letter ?

Sylv. So please you, for I never heard it yet ; Yet heard too much of Phobe's cruelty.

Ros. She Phæbe's me : mark how the tyrant writes. (Reuds.) " Art thou god to shepherd turu'd,

" That a maiden's heart hath burn'd ?” Can a woman rail thus ?

Syl. Call you this railing ?
Ros. [Reads.] " Why, thy godhead laid apart,

Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?"
Did you ever hear such railing ?-

“ Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

That could do no vengeance to me,
Meaning me a beast.--

“ If the scoru of your bright eyne'.
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspéct !
Whiles you chid ine, 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."
Sylv. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Ros. [Crosses to R.] Do you pity him ? no, he deserres 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 1 see love hath made thee a tame snake), and say this to her :-" That, if she loves me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her." If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more company.

[Exit SYLVIUS, I.. Enter Oliver, L. Oliv. (L.) Good-morrow, fair ones : Pray you, if you

know,
Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands
A sheep-cote, fenced about with olive trees ?
Cel. (c.) West of this place, down in the neighbour

bottom,
Brings you to the place :
But, at this hour, the house doth keep itself;
There's none within.

Olir. 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,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister : but the woman low,
And browner than her brother.” Are pot you
The owner of the house I did inquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask’d, to say we are.

Oliv. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloody napkin, Are you he?
Ros. [Advancing to c.] I am: What must we under-

stand by this?
Oliv. Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I ain, and how, and why, and where
This handkerchief was stain'd.

Cel. I pray you, tell it.

Oliv. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside, And, mark, what object did present itself! Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,

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Lay sleeping on his back! about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who, with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but, suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And, with indented glides, did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast,
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead :
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.

Ros. 0, I have heard him speak of that saine brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That lived 'mong'st men.

Oliv. And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural.

Ros. But, to Orlando :--Did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
Oliv. (L. c.) Twice did he turn his back, and pur-

posed so:
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked.

Cel. (L. C.) Are you his brother ?
Ros. (c.) Was it you he rescued ?
Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ?

Oliv. 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I: I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So
sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?

Oliv. By and by.
When, from the first to last, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed,
As how I came into that desert place ;-
In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here, upon his arm,
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted,
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him ; bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dyed in this blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he, in sport, doth call his Rosalind.
Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ? sweet Ganymede ?

(ROSALIND fuinls.
Oliv. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it:-Cousin -Ganymede !
Oliv. Look, he recovers.
Ros. I would I were at home!

Cel. We'll lead you thither :-
I pray you will take him by the arm !

Oliv. Be of good cheer, youth :-You a man!
You lack a man's heart.

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would think this was well counterfeited : I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigho!

Oliv. This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oliv. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Ros. So Ido: but, i'faith, I should have been a wo. man by right.

Cel. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, draw homewards :-Good sir, go with us.

Oliv. That will I; for I must bear answer back, how you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

Ros. I shall devise something : But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?

Exeunt, L. ACT V.

SCENE I.-The Forest. Enter Touchstone and AUDREY, L. Touch. (L.) We shall find a time, Audrey ; patience, gentle Audrey.

Aud. (R..c.) 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey! a most vile Mar-text! But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean.

Enter WILLIAM, L.
Touch. (c.) It is meat and drink in me to see a clown:
By my troth, we, that have good wits, have much to
answer for ; we shall be flouting ; we cannot hold.

Wil. (L.) Good even, Audrey.
Aud. Give ye good even, William.
Wil. And good even to you, sir.

Touch. Good even, gentle friend : Cover thy head ; cover thy head: nay, pr’ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?

Wil. Five and twenty, sir.
Touch. A ripe age : Is thy name William ?
Wil. William, sir.
Touch. A fair name: Wast born i' the forest here?
Wil. Ay, sir, I thank heaven.
Touch. Thank heaven! a good answer : Art rich ?
Wil. 'Faith, sir, so, so.

Touch. So, so! 'Tis good, very good, very excellent good-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise ?

Wil. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. Why, thou say'st well? I do now remember a saying ; " The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when be put it into his mouth ; meaning thereby,

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