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2 Lord. Yes, sir.
Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.
1. IVhat shall he have, that killd the deer?
1. Then sing him home:
1. Thy father's father wore it ;
2. And thy father bore it : All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt.
The rest shall bear this bur. den.
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.
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth;My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
[Giving a letter. I know not the contents; but, as I guess, By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents;
Come, come, you are a fool,
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 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 turn'd, [Reads.
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?.
Sil. Call you this railing?
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.-
If the scorn of your bright eyne7
And then I'll study how to die.
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.
Enter Oliver. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both ;
Ros. I am: What must we understand by this?
9 Environs of a forest.
Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkerchief was stain'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
aside, And, mark, what object did present itself! Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown 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 slip away Into a bush: under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis 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 same
brother; And he did render? him the most unnatural That liy'd 'mongst men.