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Sil. Sure, it is hers.
Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, A style for challengers. Why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: 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.
Ros. She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. Art thou god to shepherd turned,
That a maiden's heart hath burned? Can a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call you this railing?
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
If the scorn of your bright eyne
Ros. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity.-Wilt thou love such a woman?-What, to make thee an instru
ment, 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,
know Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands A sheep-cote, fenced about with olive-trees?
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom,
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Cel. It is no boast, being asked, to say we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
Ros. I am. What must we understand by this?
Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me
I pray you, tell it.
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself,
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
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 sucked and hungry lioness?
Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purposed so:
Cel. Are you his brother?
Was it you he rescued ? Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
Oli. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame
Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?
By and by.
array and entertainment,
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
I would I were at home.
Oli. Be of good cheer, youth.—You a man!—You lack a man's heart.
Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would think this was well counterfeited; I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. — Heigh ho!
Oli. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest.
Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.
Oli. Well, then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.
Ros. So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right.
Cei. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, draw homewards.- Good sir, go with us.
Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
Ro8. I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him.-—Will you go? Exeunt.
Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.
Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.
Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.
Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world. Here comes the man you mean.
Enter WILLIAM. Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold.
Will. Good even, Audrey.
Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, corer thy head; nay, pr’ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?
Will. Five-and-twenty, sir.
Wast born i' the forest here?
Touch. So, 80, is good, very good, very excellent good; - and yet it is not; it is but so, so. Art thou wise?
Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?
Will. I do, sir.
Touch. Then learn this of me. To have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; now you are not ipse, for I am he.
Will. Which he, sir?
Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the vulgar, leave, - the society,—which in the boorish is, company, -of this female
, - which in the common is, — woman, which together is
, abandon the society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understahding, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in