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Mufick, Song.
What Mall he have that kill'd the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear ;
Then sing him home:- take thou no scorn (24)
To wear the horn, the horn, the horn: The reft shall
It was a crest ere thou waft born. bear this bur-
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it,
The horn, the horn, the lufty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

· [Exeunts
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Rof. How fay you now, is it not past two o'clock?
I wonder much, Orlando is not here.

Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone

forth ic Aleep: Look, who comes here.

Enter Silvius.
Sih My errand is to you, fair youth,
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this ;
I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the itern brow, and walpish action
Which she did use as the was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltless messenger.

Rof Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all.

(24) Then sing bim bome, tbe reft fall bear this burden.] This is an admirable instance of the fagacity of our preceding editors, to say nothing worse. One should expect, when they were poets, they would at leaft have taken care of the Rhymes, and not fosted in what has nothing to answer it. Now, where is the rhyme to, the rest shall bear this burden 8 or, to ask another question, where is the sense of it? does the poet mean, that he, that kill'd the deer, shall be sung home, and the rest shall bear the deer on their backs. This is laying a burden on the poet, that we must help him to throw off. In short, the mystery of the whole is, that a marginal note is wisely thrust into the text: The song being design'd to be sung by a single voice, and the stanza's to close with a burden to be sung by the whole company:


She says, I am not fair ; that I lack manners;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me
Were men as rare as phenix: 'Odds my

Her love is not the hare chat I do hunt.
Why writes the fo to me? well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Sil. No, I proteft, I know not the contents;
Phebe did write it.

Rof. Come, come, you're a fool,
And turn'd into th' extremity of love.
I saw her hand, she has a leathern hand,
A free ftone coloured hand; I verily did think,
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;
She has a huswife's hand, but that's no matter;
I fay, she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention, and his hand.

Sil. Sure, it is hers.

Ref. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel file,
A stile for challengers; why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Chriftian; woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant rude invention ;
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
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.

Rof. She Phebe's me; mark how the tyrant writes.
(Reads.) Art thou God to fhepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?
Can a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call you this railing?

Rof. (Reads.] Why, thy godhead laid apart.
Warrit thou with a woman's heart?
Did you ever hear such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me, a beaft!
If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise fuch love in mine,
Alack, in me, what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect?

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I did love;
How then might your prayers move?
He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me;
And by him seal up thy mind,
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,

And then I'll study how to die.
Sil. Call you this chiding
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Rof. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity : Wilt thou love such a woman? what, to make thee an ioitrument, and play false strains upon thee? not to be endused! well, go your way to her; (for I fee, love hath made thee a tame snake,) and say this to her ; that if the love me, I charge her to ve thee: If the 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.

Enter Oliver. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you know, Where in the purlews 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; But at this hour the house doth keep itself, There's none within.

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description,
Such garments, and such years : « The boy is fair,
“ Of female favour, and bestows himself
“ Like a ripe filter: But the woman low,
" And browner than her brother."
The owner of the house, I did enquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask to say, we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you boch,

[Exit Sil.

Are not you

And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?

Ros. I am; what must we understand by this?
Oli. Some of my shame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkerchief was itain'd.

Cel. I pray you, tell it.

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour; and pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
And mark what object did present itself.
Under an oak, whole boughs were moss'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity;
A wretched ragged man, o'er-grown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth, but suddenly
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did flip away
Into a bush, under which bolh's thade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching head on ground, with cat-like watch
When that the sleeping man should stir; for ’ris
The royal disposition of that beast

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.

Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that fame 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.

Rol. But to Orlando; did he leave him there
Food to the fuck'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 juf occasion,


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Made him give battel to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurtling
From miserable flumber I awak'd.

Cel. Are you his brothers
Rof. Was't you he rescu'd ?
Cel. Was't


that did so oft contrive to kill him! Oli, 'Twas I; but 'tis not '1; I do not shame To tell you what I was, fince

my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.

Ros. But for the bloody napkin?

Oli. By and by.
When from the first to laft, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,
As how I came into that desart place;
In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me inftantly unto his cave,
There ftrip'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cry'd in fainting upon Rosalind. -
Brief, I recover'd him; bound op his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, ftranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise ; and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd-youth,
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
Cel. Why, how now Ganymed, sweet Ganymed?

(Rof. faints
Oli. Many will fwoon, when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it: -coufin Ganymed!
Oli. Look, he recovers.
Rot. Would I were at home!
Cel. We'll lead


thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm?

oli. Be of good cheer, youth; you a man? you lack a man's heart. Ref. I do so, I confess it. Ah, Sir, a body would


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