Rof. Not true in love?

Cel. Yes, when he is in: but I think, he is not in. Rof. You have heard him fwear downright he

was.

Cel. Was, is not is; befides, the oath of a lover is no ftronger than the word of a tapiter; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: he attends here in the foreft on the Duke your father.

Rof. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he; fo he laughed, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is fuch a man as Orfando?

Cel. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verfes, fpeaks brave words, fwears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite travers athwart the heart of his lover; as a puifny tilter, that fpurs his horfe but one fide, breaks his ftaff like a noble goofe; but all's brave that youth mounts, and folly guides. Who comes here?

Enter CORIN.

Cor. Miftrefs and mafter, you have oft enquired After the fhepherd that complained of love, Whom thou faw fitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud difdainful fhepherdess That was his miftrefs.

Cel. Well; and what of him?

Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly played Between the pale complexion of true love, And the red glow of fcorn and proud difdain, Go hence a little, and I fhall conduct you, And you will mark it.

Ruf. O come, let us remove;

The fight of lovers feeding those in love:
Bring us but to this fight, and you fhall fay
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to another part of the Foreft.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not fcorn me; do not, Phebe;
Say that you love me not; but say not fo
In bitternefs; the common executioner,
Whofe heart th' accustomed fight of death makes
Falls not the ax upon the humbled neck, [hard,
But firit begs pardon; (21) will you fterner be
Than he that deals, and lives by bloody drops?

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN.

Phe. I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
Thou telleft me, there is murder in mine eyes;
'Tis pretty, fure, and very probable,

That eyes, that are the frailest and fofteft things,
Who fhut their coward gates on atomies,

Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers !---
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:›
Now counterféit to fwoon; why, now fall down;
Or if thou can'ft not, oh, for fhame, for fhame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now fhew the wound mine eyes have made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some fear of it; lean but upon a rufa,
The cicatrice and capable impreffure

-(12)

-will you ferner be,

Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ?]

This is fpoken of the executioner. He lives, indeed, by bloody drops, if you will: but how does he de by bloody drops? the Poet must certainly have wrote that deals and lives, . . e. that gets his bread, and makes a trade of cutting off heads. Mr Warburton.

Thy palm fome inoment keeps; but now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not;
Nor, I am fure, there is no force in eyes

That can do hurt.

Sil. O dear Phebe,

If ever (as that ever may be near)

You meet in fome fresh cheek the power of fancy, Then fhall you know the wounds invifible

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 fhall not pity thee. [mother,
Ref. And why, I pray you? who might be your
(22) That you infult, exult, and rail, at once
Över the wretched? (23) What though you have
(As, by my faith, I fee no more in you [beauty,
Than without candle may go dark to bed,)
Muft you be therefore proud and pitylefs?
Why, what means this? why do look on me?
I fee no more in you than in the ordinary
Of Nature's fale-work: odds my little life!
I think the means to tangle mine eyes too :
No, faith, proud miftrefs, hope not after it;

you

(22) That you infult, exult, and all at once

Over the wretched?] If the speaker only intended to accufe the perfon fpoken to, for infulting and exulting, inftead of all at once, it ought to have been, both at once. But on examining, according to fact, the crime of the person accused, we fall find we ought to read the line thus;

That you infult, exult, and rail, at once, &c. For thefe three things Phebe was guilty of.

Mr Warburton.

(23) What though you have no beauty,] Though all the printed copies agree in this reading, it is very accurately obferved to me by an ingenious unknown correfpondent, who figns himself L. H (and to whom I can only here make my acknowledgments) that the negative ought to be left out. VOL. IV.

N

'Tis not your inky brows, your black filk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my fpirits to your worship. t
You foolish thepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy fouth puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than the a woman. 'Tis fuch foods as you
That make the world full of ill-favoured children;
'Tis not her glafs, but you that flatter her;
And out of you the fees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank Heaven fafting for a good man's love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is muft foul, being foul to be a fcoffer:
So take her to thee, fhepherd, fare you well.

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. T

Rof. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and fhe'll fall in love with my anger. If it be fo, as fast as the answers thee with frowning looks, I' fauce her with bitter words. Why look you fo upon me?

Phe. For no ill-will I bear you.

Rof. I pray you do not fall in love with me, For I am falfer than vows made in wine; Befides, I like you not. If you will know my houfe, 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by: Will you go, fifter? Shepherd, ply her hard: Come, fifter. Shepherdefs, look on him better, And be not proud; though all the world could fee, None could be fo abused in fight as he Come, to our flock.

[Exit.

Phe. Dead fhepherd, now I find thy faw of might; Who ever loved, that loved not at first fight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe!

Phe. Habd what fayeft thou, Silvius?

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

Phe. Why, I am forry for thee, gentle Silvius. Sil. Where ever forrow is, relief would be; If you do forrow at my grief in love,

By giving love, your forrow and my grief
Were both extermined...

1. Phe. Thou haft my love; isnot 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 fince that thou canft talk of love fo well,
Thy company, which erft was irksome to me,
I will endure; and f'll employ the too;
But do not look for further recompence
Than thine own gladness that thou art employed.
Sil. So holy and fo perfect is my love,
And I in fuch a poverty of grace,

.0 1

That I fhall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvelb reaps: loofe now and then
A fcattered fmile, and that I'll live upon.

, I

Phe Knoweft 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 mafter of

Phe. Think not I love him, tho' I afk for him; 'Tis but a peevith boy, yet he talks well. But what care I for words yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleafes thofe that hear. It is a pretty youth, not very pretty;