Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.

Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. [Aside. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touch. Come, sweet Audrey;

We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good master Oliver!

Not-O sweet Oliver,

O brave Oliver,

Leave me not behind thee;

But-wind away,

Begone, I say,

I will not to wedding with thee.1

Exeunt JAQ., TOUCH., and AUDREY.

Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave

of them all shall flout me out of my calling.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. The same. Before a Cottage.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep.

Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to consider, that tears do not become a man.

Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.

1 The ballad of "O sweete Olyver, leave me not behind thee," and the answer to it, are entered on the Stationers' books in 1584 and 1586. Touchstone says I will sing-not that part of the ballad which says"Leave me not behind thee;" but that which says "Begone, I say," probably part of the answer.

Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling color. Cel. Something browner than Judas's. Marry, his kisses are Judas's own children.

Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good color.

Cel. An excellent color; your chestnut was ever the only color.

Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana; a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not ?

Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
Ros. Do you think so?

Cel. Yes, I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horsestealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet, or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love?

Cel. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. Cel. Was is not is. Besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father.

Ros. 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; so he laughed, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando?

Cel. O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose; but

3

1 Judas was constantly represented, in old paintings and tapestry, with red hair and beard.

2 When the tilter, by unsteadiness or awkwardness, suffered his spear to be turned out of its direction, and to be broken across the body of his adversary, instead of by the push of the point, it was held very disgraceful. 3 i. e. mistress.

all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides.Who comes here?

Enter CORIN.

Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired After the shepherd that complained of love; Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud, disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress.

Cel.

Well, and what of him?

Cor. If you will see a pageant truly played,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.

Ros.
O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.-
Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Another Part of the Forest.

Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe. Say that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,

But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be

Than he that dies and lives1 by bloody drops ?

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance

Phe. I would not be thy executioner;

I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.

Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye.

1 i. e. he who, to the very end of life, continues a common executioner.

'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,

That eyes that are the frail'st and softest things,
Who shut 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 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
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,

The cicatrice and capable1 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 no beauty,

(As, by my faith, I see no more in you

Than without candle may go dark to bed,)

Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?

Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you, than in the ordinary
Of nature's sale-work.-Od's my little life!

1 Capable is probably here used in the sense of susceptible. Some commentators proposed to substitute the word palpable.

I think she means to tangle my eyes too.
No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after it;
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk-hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship.-
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man,
Than she a woman. "Tis such fools as you,

That make the world full of ill-favored children.
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
And out of you she sees herself more proper,
Than any of her lineaments can show her.-
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank Heaven, fasting, 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 most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.1
So take her to thee, shepherd.-Fare you well.
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 abused in sight as he.2

Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Ros., CEL., and COR.

1 That is, says Johnson, "The ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers."

2 If all men could see you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he.