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part of the Forest.
Enter Jaques and Lords, in the habit of the Fo
Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 1 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?
2 Lord. Yes, sir.
Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.
1. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer?
Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn;
1. Thy father's father wore it ;
All. The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
shall bear this burden.
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,
Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
Why write she so to me?-Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device.
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents; Phebe did write it.
Ros. Come, come, you are a tool, And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;
She has a hus wife's hand: but that's no matter:
Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style,
Ros. She Phebes me; Mark how the tyrant writes.
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,
Can a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? Did you ever hear such railing?
While the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance* to me.Meaning me a beast.
If the scorn of your bright eyne †
Or else by him my love deny,
Sil. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!
Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.Wilt thou love such a womau?-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.
Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you know
Where, in the purlieus* of this forest, stands
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom,
The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream, Left on your right hand, brings you to the place: But at this hour the house doth keep itself, There's none within.
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then I should know you by description; Such garments, and such years: The boy is fair, Of female favour, and bestows himself Like a ripe sister: but the woman low, And browner than her brother. Are not you The owner of the house I did inquire for?
Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are.
* Environs of a forest.
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
Ros. I am: What must we understand by this? 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.
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,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
And he did rendert him the most unnatural,
Ros. But, to Orlando;-Did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
* Handkerchief. VOL. II.