Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and come. Cel. And I'll sleep. I'll 220 [Exeunt. Scene II. The forest. Enter Jaques, Lords, and Foresters. Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? A Lord. Sir, it was I. Jaq. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? For. Yes, sir Jaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. SONG. For. What shall he have that kill'd the deer? Then sing him home: 10 [The rest shall bear this burden. Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. Scene III. The forest. Enter Rosalind and Celia. Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock and here much Orlando! Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who comes here. Enter Silvius. this: guess Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth; 10 Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents: Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand, 20 I say she never did invent this letter ; This is a man's invention and his hand. Sil. Sure, it is hers. Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, A style for challengers; why, she defies me, 30 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. Can a woman rail thus ? Sil. Call you this railing? Ros. [reads] Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? Did you ever hear such railing? Whiles the eye of man did woo me, Meaning me a beast. If the scorn of your bright eyne 40 50 Alack, in me what strang effect And then I'll study how to die. Sil. Call you this chiding? Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument 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. 60 70 [Exit Silvius. |