1 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? 2 Lord. Yes, sir. Jaq. Sing it 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. SONG. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer? Thy father's father wore it, The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, [Then sing him home: the rest shall bear this burden.] [Exeunt. SCENE III. The Forest. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock ? And here much Orlando! Then sing him home:] The words, "Then sing him home: the rest shall bear this burden," are clearly only stage-directions, although, by error, printed as part of the song in the old copies. "Then sing him home" has reference to the carrying of the lord, who killed the deer, to the duke; and we are to suppose that the foresters sang as they quitted the stage for their "home" in the wood. "The rest shall bear this burden" alludes to the last six lines, which are the burden of the song. Modern editors have taken upon them to divide the song between the first and second lord, by the figures 1 & 2; but without any warrant. We have reprinted it precisely as it stands in the original copies, with the exception above noticed. It is to be observed, that it is found in Playford's "Musical Companion," (as Boswell pointed out,) without the words "Then sing him home." It is also in "Catch that Catch can," 1652, in the same form. Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled brain, He hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forthTo sleep. Look, who comes here. Enter SILVIUS. Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth.— My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this: [Giving a letter. I know not the contents; but as I guess, I am but as a guiltless messenger. Ros. 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, Why writes she so to me?-Well, shepherd, well; Sil. No, I protest; I know not the contents: 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-colour'd hand: I verily did think This is a man's invention, and his hand. Sil. Sure, it is hers. Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, To sleep. Look, who comes here.] We regulate this and the four preceding lines of verse as in the old copies: modern editors have taken it for granted, because a little irregular, that they were prose. 6 My gentle Phebe DID bid me give you this:] So the first folio: the second omits “did.” “Phebe" is to be spoken in the time of one syllable. A style for challengers: why, she defies me, Than in their countenance.-Will you hear the letter? Sil. So please you; for I never heard it yet, Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Ros. She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. "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. "Why, thy godhead laid apart, Did you ever hear such railing?— "Whiles the eye of man did woo me, Meaning me a beast. "If the scorn of your bright eyne Sil. Call you this chiding? 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, unless thou entreat for her.-If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word, for here comes more company. [Exit SILVIUS. 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? 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. Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Such garments, and such years :-"The boy is fair, Like a ripe sister: the woman low, And browner than her brother." Are not you The owner of the house I did inquire for? Ros. I am. What must we understand by this? Cel. I pray you, tell it. G Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, 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. age, Cel. O! I have heard him speak of that same brother; And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd 'mongst men. Oli. 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? Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd 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 Cel. Are you his brother? |