TOUCH. I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.

[Aside. JAQ. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. TOUCH. Come, sweet Audrey;

We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Farewell good master Oliver!

Not O sweet Oliver,

O brave Oliver,

Leave me not behind thee:

But wind away,

Begone, I say,

I will not to wedding with thee.(39)

[Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE, and AUDREY. SIR OLI. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit.

SCENE IV.

The same. Before a Cottage.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep.

CEL. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to consider, that tears do not become a man.

a I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another] I am of no other opinion or inclination than, my mind is, that it were better to be married by him.

Ros. But have I not cause to weep?

CEL. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.

Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.

CEL. Something browner than Judas's: marry, his kisses are Judas's own children.

Ros. I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.(40)

CEL. An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever the only colour.

Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

CEL. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of chast, 1632. Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.b

Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?

CEL. Nay certainly, there is no truth in him.

Ros. Do you think so?

CEL. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm

eaten nut.

Ros. Not true in love?

CEL. Yes, when he is in; but, I think he is not in.

* Something browner than Judas's] He was represented in ancient painting and tapestry with red hair and beard. See "Cain-coloured," M. W. of W. I. 4. Simple.

a pair of cast lips of Diana:-kisses-the very ice of chastity] Cast are "left off." Kisses, such as were "co-mates," (II. 1. Duke S.) or associates of winter, and participating of its properties and qualities; were cold and icy.

cover'd goblet] Empty and hollow.

Ros. You have heard him swear downright, he

was.

CEL. Was is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmers of false reckonings: He attends here in the forest on the duke your father.

Ros. I met the duke yesterday, and had much question with him: He asked me, of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh'd, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there's such a man as Orlando?

CEL. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart,(42) the heart of his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose: (43) but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides:-Who comes here?

Enter CORIN.

COR. Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired

After the shepherd that complain'd of love;
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.

CEL.

Well, and what of him?

COR. If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
you will mark it..

If

Ros.
O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love:-
Bring us unto this sight, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Another Part of the Forest.

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 accustom'd sight of death makes
hard,

Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck,
But first begs pardon; Will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, at a
distance.

PHE. I would not be thy executioner; 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,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
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

a

thee;

⚫ he that dies and lives by bloody drops] "Who by bloodshed makes to die, or causes death; and by such death-doing makes his living, or subsists: who, by the means he uses to cut off life, carves out to himself the means of living."

Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.

Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
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.

If ever, (as that ever may be near,)

You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,

Then shall you know the wounds invisible

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,

с

That you insult, exult, and all at once,

Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty, (45)

(As, by my faith, I see no more in you

Than without candle may go dark to bed,)
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?

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

capable impressure] Capable is able to receive." Johns. Dict." Capable impressure," therefore, is a stamp or hollow of such description.

Nor-there is no, &c.] See the opening of A. II. Tw. N.

Anton.

Who might be your mother] 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. JOHNSON.