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
born of madness, that blind rascally boy that
abuses every one's eyes
because his own are out,
let him be judge how deep I am in love.
tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of
Orlando : I'll go find a shadow and sigh till he

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?
His leather skin and horns to wear.

Then sing him home:

10

[The rest shall bear this burden.

Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born:
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it :

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;
My gentle Phebe bid me give you
I know not the contents; but, as I
By the stern brow and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me;
I am but as a guiltless messenger.

10

Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,
Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:

Why writes 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 fool,
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 huswife's hand; but that's no matter :

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,
Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect

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.
[Reads] Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?

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,
That could do no vengeance to me.

Meaning me a beast.

If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,

40

50

Alack, in me what strang effect
Would they work in mild aspect!
Whiles you chide me, I did love;
How then might your prayers move!
He that brings this love to thee
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,

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.