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thee: but wind away, begone I will not to wedding with thee.
Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall fout me out of
my calling. [Exeunt,
SCEN E changes to a Cottage in the Forest.
Enter Rosalind and Celia. Rol:
Ever talk to me, I
Cel. Do, I prythee; but yet have the grace to consider, that tears do not become a man.
Rof But have I not cause to weep :
Cel. Something browner than Judas's ; marry, his kisses are. Judas's own children.
Rof. l'faith, his hair is of a good colour. Cel. An excellent colour : your chesnut was ever the only colour.
Ref. (19) And his killing is as full of fanctity, as the touch of holy beard.
Cel. (20) He hath bought a pair of caft lips of Diana; a
(:9) And his kissing is as full of sanctity, as the touch of boly bread.] Tho'chis be the reading of the oldest copies, I have made no fcruple to substitute an emendation of Mr. Warburton, which mightily adds to the propriety of the fimile. What can the poet be suppos'd to mean by boly bread ? not the sacramental, sure; that would have been prophanation, upon a subject of so much Jevity. But boly beard very beautifully alludes to the kiss of a holy Saint, which the ancients call'd the kiss of charity. And for Rosalind to say, that Orlando kiss’d as holily as a Saint, renders the comparison very juft.
(20) He hath bought a pair of chaste lips of Diana ; a nun of Winter's fiberbood kiljes not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.} This pair of chaste lips is a corruption as old as the second edition in Foiio; I have restor'd with the first Folio, a pair of cast lips, i.e. a pair lett off by Diana. Again, what idea does a nun of Winter's fifterhood give us ? tho' I have not ventur’d to disturb the text, it seems mure probable to me that the poet wrote;
A nun of Winifred's fijler bood, &c. Not, indeed, that ihere was any real religious order of that denomina, cion: Lut the legend of St. Winifred is this. She was a christian vir
fun of winter's sisterhood kislès not more religiously; the very
'ice of chastity is in chem.
Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm-eaten nut. Rof. Not true in love? Cél. Yes, when he is in; but, I think, he is not in. Rof. 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 capiter; they are both che confirmers of false reckonings-; he attends here in the forest on the Duke your father.
Rof. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him : he ak'd 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 is such a man as Orlando? Cel
. O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, fieaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite travers athwart the heart of his lover; as a puifny tilter, that spurs his horse but one fidey breaks his staff like a noble goose; but all's brave that youth mounts, and folly guides : who comes here?
gin at Holywell a small town in Flintshire, so tenacious of her chastity, that when a tyrannous governor laid siege to her, he could not reduce her to compliance, but was oblig'd to ravish, and afterwards behe
revenge of her obstinacy. Vid. Cambden's Britannia by Dr. Gibson p. 688. This tradition forts very well with our poet's allufion.
Cel. Well; and what of him?"
Car. If you will see a pageant truly play'd
Ros. O come, let us remove;
SCENE changes to another part of the Forest,
Enter Silvius and Phebe.
Say, that you love me not; but say not so
Enter Rosalind, Celia and Corin. Phe. I would not be thy executioner ; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell’ft me, there is murder in mine eyes ; 'Tis pretty, fure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'it 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 thee: Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; Or if thou can'ft not, oh, for shame, for shame, (21)
will you fierner be, Than be that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 'This is spoken of the executioner. He lives, indeed, by Bloody drops, if you will : but how does he die by bloody drops ? the poet muft cero tainly have wrote--that deals and livies &c, ie. that gets his bread, and makes a trade of cutting off heads.
Lye not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Sil. O dear Phebe,
Phe. But, 'till that tiine,
Rof. And why, I pray you? who might be your mother',
(22) That you insult, exult, and all at once':
Over sbe suretibell. j If the speaker only intended to accuse the person spoken to, for insulting and exuluing, instead of all at once, it ought to have been, bob at once. But on examining, according to fact, the crime of the person accus*d, we shall find we ought to read the line thus ;
That you infult, exult, and rail, at oncè &c. f
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after its
'Tis such fools as you,
Pbe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.
Rof. He's fallen in love with your foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words : why look you so upon me? Pbe. For no ill will I bear you.
Rof. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am faller than vows made in wine ; Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, 'Tis at the cuft of olives, here hard by : Will you go, fifter thepherd, ply her hard: Come, litter ; fhepherdels look on him better, And be not proud ; tho' all the world could see, None could be so abus’d in fight as he, Come, to our flock,
. Pbe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy faw of might; Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight,
Sil, Sweet Phebe!