Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

WOO me.

but a moonish7 youth, grieve, be effeminate, change- Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness ! able, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, sluttishness may come hereafter. But be as it may shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for be, I will marry thee: and to that end, I have been every passion something, and for no passion truly with sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next vilany thing, as boys and women are for the most part lage; who hath promised to meet me in this place cattle of this colour ; would now like him, now of the forest, and to couple us. loath him; then entertain him, then forswear him; Jaq. I would fain see this meeting. [Aside. now weep for him, then laugh at him, that I drave Aud. Well, the gods give us joy ! my suitor from his mad humour of love, to a living Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearhumour of madness; which was, to forswear the full ful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely no temple but the wood, no assembly but hornmonastick: And thus I cured him; and this way beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as odious, they are necessary. It is said, - Many a man a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one knows no end of his goods : right; many a man has spot of love in't.

good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that Orl. I would not be cured, youth.

is the dowry of his wife ; 'tis none of his own getting. Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call | Horns ? Even so: Poor men alone; No, me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the

rascal. 2 Is the single man therefore blessed ? No: Orl. Now by the faith of my love, I will ; tell me as a wall’d town is more worthier than a village, so where it is.

is the forehead of a married man more honourable Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; than the bare brow of a bachelor: and by how much and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the defences is better than no skill, by so much is a forest you live: Will you go?

horn more precious than to want. Orl. With all my heart, good youth. Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind : Come,

Enter Sir Oliver MAR-TEXT. sister, will you go?

[Exeunt. Here comes sir Oliver: - Sir Oliver Mar-text, you

are well met : Will you despatch us here under this SCENE III. The same.

tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ?

Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman ? Enter TouchSTONE and AUDREY ; JAQUES at a

Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man. distance, observing them.

Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marTouch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch riage is not lawful. up your goats, Audrey: And how, Audrey ? am

Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, proceed ; I the man yet? Doth my simple feature content you ? | I'll give her. Aud. Your features! what features ?

Touch. Good even, good master What ye callt : Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the How do you, sir? You are very well met: I am most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the very glad to see you : — Even a toy in hand here, Goths.

sir : Nay; pray be cover'd. Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited ! 8 worse than

Jaq. Will you be married, motley ? Jove in a thatch'd house !

[Aside. Touch. As the ox hath his bow , sir, the horse Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- his curb, and the falcon her bells, so man hath his stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the for- desire towards wedlock. ward child, understanding, it strikes a man more Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, dead than a great reckoning in a little room :- be married under a bush, like a beggar? Get you to Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. church, and have a good priest that can tell you

Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is it honest what marriage is: this fellow will but join you toin deed, and word ? Is it a true thing?

gether as they join wainscot; then one of you will Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the prove a shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and

warp, warp. what they swear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, Touch. I am not in the mind but I were better they do feign.

to be married of him than of another: for he is not Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made like to marry me well ; and not being well married, me poetical ?

it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to me, my wife.

(Aside. thou art honest; now, if thou wert a poet, I might Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. have some hope thou didst feign.

Touch. Come, sweet Audrey ; Aud. Would you not have me honest ?

Farewell, good master Oliver ! Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd:

Not — O sweet Oliver, for honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a

O brave Oliver,
sauce to sugar.
Jaq. A material fool! 9

Leave me not behi' thee;
Aside.

But - Wind away,
Aud. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray

Begone, I say, the gods make me honest! Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a

I will

not to wedding wi' thee.

[Exeunt JAQ. Touch. and AUDREY. foul slut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave I am foul. 1

of them all shall fout me out of my calling. (Erit. 7 Variable.

8 Ill-lodged. 2 Lean deer are called rascal deer. 3 The art of fencing. 9 A fool with matter in him

[ocr errors]

| Honely.

4 Yoke

That eyes,

fore weep.

SCENE IV. - Before a Cottage. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye :

'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

that are the frail'st and softest things, Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep.

Who shut their coward gates on atomies, – Cel. Do, I pr’ythee ; but yet have the grace to should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers ! consider, that tears do not become a man.

Now I do frown on thee with all my heart : Ros. But have I not cause to weep?

And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee; Cel. As good cause as one would desire; there Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down;

Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, Ros. Why did he swear he would come this morn- Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. ing, and comes not?

Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him. Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Ros. Do you think so?

Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, Cel. Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a The cicatrice and capable impressure horse-stealer ; but for his verity in love, I do think Thy palm some moment keeps : but now mine eyes, him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm- Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; eaten nut.

Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes Ros. Not true in love?

That can do hurt. Cel. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in.

Sil,

O dear Phebe, Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he was. If ever, (as that ever may be near,)

Cel. Was is not is : besides the oath of a lover You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are Then shall you know the wounds invisible both the confirmers of false reckonings : He attends That love's keen arrows make. here in the forest on the duke your father.

Phe.

But, till that time, Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much Come not thou near me; and, when that time comes, question with bim : He asked me, of what parent- Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ; age I was: I told him, of as good as he ; so he As, till that time, I shall not pity thee. laugh’d, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, Ros. And why, I pray you? (Advancing.] Who when there is such a man as Orlando?

might be your mother, Cel. 0,. that's a brave man! he writes brave That you insult, exult, and all at once, verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and Over the wretched ? What though you have more breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the

beauty, heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his (As, by my faith, I see no more in you horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble Than without candle may go dark to bed,) goose; but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? guides :- Who comes here?

Why; what means this? Why do you look on me?

I see no more in you, than in the ordinary
Enter Corin.

Of nature's sale-work: — Od's my little life! Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired I think, she means to tangle my eyes too: After the shepherd that complain'd of love; No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it; Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,

'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess

Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream, That was his mistress.

That can entame my spirits to your worship. Cel.

Well, and what of him ? You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ? Between the pale complexion of true love

You are a thousand times a properer man, And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Than she a woman : "Tis such fools as you, Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,

That make the world full of ill-favour'd children : If you will mark it.

'Tis not her glass, but you that flatters her ; Ros.

O, come, let us remove; And out of you she sees herself more proper, The sight of lovers feedeth those in love :

Than any of her lineaments can show her. Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say But, mistress, know yourself ; down on your knees, I'll prove a busy actor

their play

(Exeunt. And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love :

For I must tell you friendly in your ear, — SCENE V. - Another Part of the Forest. Sell when you can; you are not for all markets :

Cry the man mercy; love him ; take his offer; Enter Silvius and PHEBE.

Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe: So take her to thee, shepherd ; - fare you well. Say, that you love me not; but say not so

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year toIn bitterness: The common executioner,

gether ; Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. hard,

Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,

she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as But first begs pardon : Will you sterner be fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? sauce her with bitter words. — Why look you so Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, at a distance. upon me?

Phe. For no ill will I bear you. Phe. I would not be thy executioner ;

Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.

For I am falser than vows made in wine : 3 Conversation

6 Lore

[graphic]

Besides, I like you not : If you will know my house, Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; 'Tis at the tuft of olives, bere hard by:

And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, Will you go, sister ? — Shepherd, ply her hard : That the old carlot 8 once was master of. Come, sister :- Shepherdess, look on him better, Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; And be not proud: though all the world could see, 'Tis but a peevish o boy: - yet he talks well ; None could be so abus'd in sight as he.

But what care I for words ? yet words do well, Come to our flock.

When he that speaks them pleases those that hear [Ereunt ROSALIND, Celia, and Corin. It is a pretty youth: — not very pretty: Phe. Dead shepherd! now I find thy saw of might; But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him : Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?

He'll make a proper man : the best thing in him Sil. Sweet Phebe,

Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Phe.

Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius ? Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.

He is not tall; yet for his years he's tal : Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well :

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; There was a pretty redness in his lip; If you do sorrow at my grief in love,

A little riper and more lusty red By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the Were both extermin'd.

difference Phe. Thou hast my love: Is not that neighbourly? Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. Sil. I would have you.

There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him Phe.

Why, that were covetousness. In parcels as I did, would have gone near Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;

To fall in love with him : but, for my part, And yet it is not, that I bear thee love :

I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet But, since that thou canst talk of love so well, I have more cause to hate him than to love him : Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, For what had he to do to chide at me? I will endure; and I'll employ thee too :

He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; But do not look for further recompense,

And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. I marvel, why I answer'd not again :
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,

But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance.
And I in such a poverty of grace,

I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop And thou shalt bear it: Wilt thou, Silvius?
To glean the broken ears after the man

Su. Phebe, with all my heart.
That the main harvest reaps: lose now and then Phe.

I'll write it straight; A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.

The matter's in my head, and in my heart:
Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me I will be bitter with him, and passing short :
ere while ?
Go with me, Silvius.

[Ereunt.

ACT IV.

verse.

SCENE I. The same.

and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor

hands. Enter Rosalind, Celia, and JAQUES. Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better

Enter ORLANDO. acquainted with thee. Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. had rather have a fool to make me merry, than

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too. abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind ! modern censure, worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Nay then, farewell, an you talk in blank Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.

[Exit. Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller : Look, you Jaq.. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable' all the benefits which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is of your own country; be out of love with your nafantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor

tivity, or I will scarce think you have swam in a the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, gondola. - Why, how now, Orlando! where have which is politick ; nor the lady's, which is nice 7 you been all this while ? You a lover ? — An you nor the lover's, which is all these : but it is a melan- serve me such another trick, never come in my choly of mine own, compounded of many simples, sight more. extracted from many objects: and, indeed, the

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour sundry comtemplation of my travels, in which my

of my promise. often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that sadness. Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that

break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, Cupid bath clapp'd him o'the shoulder, but I war

rant him heart. whole. 7 Trilling

8 Peasant 9 Silly.

1 Undervalue

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind,

Orl. Pray thee, marry us. Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in Cel. I cannot say the words. my sight; I had as lief be wood of a snail.

Ros. You must begin, — Will you, Orlando, Orl. Of a snail ?

Cel. Go to: Will you, Orlando, have to wife Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, this Rosalind ? he carries his house on his head; a better jointure, Orl. I will. I think, than you can make a woman: Besides, he Ros. Ay, but when ? brings his destiny with him.

Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Orl. What's that?

Ros. Then you must say,– I take thee, Rosalind, Ros. Why, horns.

.for wife. Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. is virtuous.

Ros. I might ask you for your commission ; Ros. And I am your Rosalind.

but, — I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath There a girl goes before the priest ; and, certainly, a Rosalind of a better leer' than you.

a woman's thought runs before her actions. Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. a holiday humour, and like enough to consent : Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her, What would you say to me now, an I were your after you have married her. very very Rosalind ?

Ori. For ever and a day. Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, OrRos.. Nay, you were better speak first ; and when lando ; men are April when they woo, December you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might when they wed: maids are May when they are take occasion to kiss.

maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I Orl. How, if the kiss be denied ?

will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cockRos. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot begins new matter.

against rain; more new-fangled than an ape ; more Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved giddy than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like mistress?

Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, mistress.

and that when thou art inclined to sleep. Orl. What, of my suit ?

Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? Ros. Out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind ? Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.

Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I Orl. O, but she is wise. would be talking of her.

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do Ros. Well, in her person, I say— I will not have this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the doors 3 you.

upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the caseOrl. Then, in mine own person, I die.

ment; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole ; Ros. No, faith, die hy attorney. The poor world stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimis almost six thousand years old, and in all this ney. time there was not any man died in his own person, Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains might say, Wit whither wilt? dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what Ros. You shall never take her without her anhe could to die before ; and he is one of the pat- swer, unless you take her without her tongue. terns of love. Leander, he would have lived many Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had thee. not been for a hot midsummer night: for, good Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hel- Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two lespont, and being taken with the cramp, was o'clock I will be with thee again. drowned; and the foolish chroniclers of that age Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;

I knew found it was — Hero of Sestos. But these are all what you would prove; my friends told me as much, lies; men have died from time to time, and worms and I thought no less : that flattering tongue of have eaten them, but not for love.

yours won me:- 'tis but one cast away, and so, Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this come, death. – Two o'clock is your hour ? mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: But Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and bv come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more com- all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if ycu break ing-on disposition; and ask me what you will, I one jot of your promise, or come one minute bewill grant it.

hind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.

break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the Ros. Yes,faith willI, Fridays, and Saturdays,and all. most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may Orl. And wilt thou have me?

be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful : Ros. Ay, and twenty such.

therefore, beware my censure, and keep your proOrl. What say'st thou ?

mise. Ros. Are you not good ?

Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert inOrl. I hope so.

deed my Rosalind : So adieu. Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a

Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines good thing ? — Come, sister, you shall be the priest, all such offenders, and let time try : Adieu. and marry us. · Give me your hand, Orlando :

(Erit ORLANDO. What do you say, sister ?

Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your 2 Complexion.

Р

[ocr errors]

3 Bar the doors,

love-prate : we must have your doublet and hose And turn'd into the extremity of love. plucked over your head.

I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think thou did'st know how many fathom deep I am in That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands ; love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath She has a huswife's hand : but that's no matter : an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. I say, she never did invent this letter ;

Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you This is a man's invention, and his hand. pour affection in, it runs out.

Sil. Sure, it is hers. Ros. No, that same wicked boy of Venus, that Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and born A style for challengers; why she defies me, of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses Like Turk to Christian : woman's gentle brain every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, be judge, how deep I am in love: – I'll tell thee, Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando : Than in their countenance : - Will you hear the I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come.

letter? Cel. And I'll sleep.

[Exeunt. su. So please you, for I never heard it yet ;

Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. SCENE II. - Another Part of the Forest. Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant

writes. Enter JAQUES and Lords, in the habit of Foreslers.

Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, [Reads. Jag. Which is he that killed the deer?

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? 1 Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman Can a woman rail thus ? conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's Si. Call you this railing ? horns upon his head, for a branch of victory:

Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart, Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ?

Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? 2 Lord. Yes, sir.

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, Did you ever hear such railing ? so it make noise enough.

Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
SONG.

That could do no vengeance to me. 1. What shall he have that kill'd the deer?

Meaning me a beast. 2. His leather skin and horns to wear.

If the scorn of your bright cyne 1. Then sing him home :

Have power to raise such love in mine, Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn ; 7 The rest shall

Alack, in me what strange effect It was a crest ere thou wast born.

Would they work in mild aspéct ? 1. Thy father's father wore it ;

Whiles you chid me, I did love ; 2. And thy father bore il :

How then might your prayers move ? All. The horn, the horn, the lusly horn,

He, that brings this love to thee, Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

[Exeunt.

Little knows this love in me :

And by him seal up thy mind;
SCENE II. - The Forest.

Whether that thy youth and kind 4
Enter ROSALIND and Celia.

Will the faithful offer take

Of me, and all that I can make ; Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two Or else by him my love deny, o'clock ? and here much Orlando!

And then I'll study how to die. Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone

Sil. Call you this chiding? forth — to sleep : Look, who comes here.

Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Enter Silvius.

Wilt thou love such a woman ?- What, to make Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth;

thee an instrument, and play false strains upon My gentle Phebe bid me give you this ;

thee ! not to be endured! – Well, go your way to

[Giving a letter. her, (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,) I know not the contents; but, as I guess,

and say this to her: – That if she love me, I charge By the stern brow, and waspish action

her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have Which she did use as she was writing of it, her, unless thou entreat for her. — If you be a true It bears an angry tenour : pardon me,

lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more I am but as a guiltless messenger.

company.

(Exit Silvius. Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,

Enter OLIVER.
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says, I am not fair; that 1 lack manners;

Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones : Pray you, if you

know She calls me proud; and, that she could not love me Were man as rare as phænix ; Od's my will !

Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:

A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees? Why writes she so to me? - Well, shepherd, well,

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour This is a letter of your own device.

bottom, Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents;

The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, Phebe did write it.

Left on your right hand, brings you to the place : Ros. Come, come, you are a fool,

4 Nature.

Lear this burden.

[graphic]
[graphic]
« AnteriorContinuar »