And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Ros. O, come, let us remove; The sight of lovers feedeth those in love :- SCENE V. Another Part of the Forest. [Exeunt. 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, But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a distance. I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye : 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes,—that are the frail'st and softest things, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers ! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: 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 That can do hurt. Sil. O dear Phebe, If ever, (as that ever may be near,) [7] Cicatrice is here not very properly used; it is the scar of a wound. Capable impressure, hollow mark. JOHNSON. You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 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, 8 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 Than without candle may go dark to bed,) Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; [8] It is common for the poets to express cruelty by saying, of those who commit it, that they were born of rocks, or suckled by tigresses. JOHNS. [9] i. e. Those works which nature makes up carelessly and without exactness. The allusion is to the practice of mechanics, whose work bespoke is more elaborate than that which is made up for chance customers, or to sell in quantities to retailers, which is called sale-work. WARBURTON. [] i.e. the ugly seem most ugly, when, though ugly, they are scoffers. JOH. 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, Will you go, sister?-Shepherd, ply her hard :— Come, to our flock. [Exe. Ros. CEL. and COR. Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ?3 Sil. Sweet Phebe, Phe. Ha! what sayʼst 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 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, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop [2] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. JOHNSON. [3] This line is from Marlowe's Hero and Leander. STEEV. [4] Perhaps Shakspeare owed this image to the second chapter of Ruth :"Let fall some handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them." 13* STEEVENS. VOL. IN 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.5 Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him ; Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall : A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference 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; I marvel, why I answer'd not again : But that's all one; omittance is no quittance. The matter's in my head, and in my heart : [5] Carlot, i. e. peasant, from carl or churl. DOUCE. [Exeunt. [6] "Constant red" is uniform red. "Mingled damask" is the silk o that name, in which, by a various direction of the threads, many lighter shades of the same colour are exhibited. STEEVENS. ACT IV. SCENE I.-The same. Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES. Jaques. I PR'YTHEE, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards. Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice ;7 nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects: and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sadness. Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. Enter ORLANDO. Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too. Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank [Exit. verse. Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have swam in a gon |