That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down; Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 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 If ever, (as that ever may be near,) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, Then shall you know the wounds invisible 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 Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? 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 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, 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 "7. 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, By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Were both extermin'd. Phe. Thou hast my love; Is not that neighbourly? Sil. I would have you. Phe. Why, that were covetousness. Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee; And yet it is not, that I bear thee love: But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure; and I'll employ thee too : Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. 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 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 'Tis but a peevish boy :-yet he talks well; But what care I for words? yet words do well, Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the differ ence Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him: but, for my part, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him : For what had he to do to chide at me? He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me : I marvel, why I answer'd not again : But that's all one; omittance is no quittance, And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius ? I'll write it straight; The matter's in my head, and in my heart: [Exeunt. |