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.
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ;-

2 The foregoing noisy scene was introduced only to fill up an interval, which is to represent two hours. This contraction of the time we might impute to poor Rosalind's impatience, but that a few minutes after we find Orlando sending his excuse. I do not see that by any probable division of the acts this absurdity can be obviated. Johnson. . 3 - and here much Orlando!] Thus the old copy. Some of the modern editors read, but without the least authority :

I wonder mu:h, Orlando is not here. STEEVENS. The word much should be explained. It is an expression of latitude, and taken in various senses. Here's much Orlando-i. e. Here is no Orlando, or we may look for him. We have ftill this use of it, as when we say, speaking of a person who we suspect will not keep his appointment, " Ay, you will be sure to see him there much !” WHALLEY.

So the vulgar yet say, “ I shall get much by that no doubt,” meaning that they shall get nothing. MALONE.

Here much Orlando! is spoken ironically on Rosalind perceiving that Orlando had failed in his engagement. Holt White.

Much, in our author's time, was an expression denoting admiration. So, in King Henry IV. P. II. Act II. sc. iv:

“ What, with two points on your shoulder ? much!” Again, in The Taming of the Shrew:

“ 'Tis much!--Servant, leave me and her alone.” MALONE. Much! was more frequently used to indicate disdain. See notes on the first of the two passages quoted by Mr. Malone. STEEVENS.

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,
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me,
I am but as a guiltless messenger.

Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer ;s 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 phænix; 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:

4- bid me--] The old copy redundantly reads—did bid me.

STEEVENS
s Patience herself would fartle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer ;] So, in Measure for Measure :
“ This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant.'

STEEVENS.
6 Phebe did write it.

Rof. Come, come, you are a fool,
I saw her hand : the has a leathern hand,

A freeftone-colourd hand;} As this passage now stands, the
metre of the first line is imperfect, and the sense of the whole; for
why should Rosalind dwell so much upon Phebe's hands, unless
Silvius had said fomething about them - I have no doubt but the
line originally ran thus :

Phebe did write it with her own fair hand.
And then Rosalind's reply will naturally follow. M. MASON.

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 ftile, A stile for challengers; why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: 'woman's gentle brains Could not drop forth fuch giant-rude invention, Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance:-Will you hear the

: letter? Sių. 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 beart bath burn'd?
Can a woman rail thus?

Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart,

Warrist 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,
Alack, in me what frange effet
Would they work in mild aspect?
Whiles you chid me, I did love ;
How tben might your prayers move?

3 woman's gentle brain-] Old copy-women's. Cor. rected by Mr. Rowe. Malone.

vengeance - ) is used for mischief. Johnson,

- He, that brings this love to thee,

Little knows this love in me :
· And by bim feal up thy mind;

Whether that thy youth and kinds
Will the faithful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,

And then I'll sudy 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 theea 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.

[Exit Silvius. Enter OLIVER. Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you

know s- youth and kind-] Kind is the old word for nature,

Johnson, So, in Antony and Cleopatra : “ You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind." STEEVENS.

o all that I can make ;] i. e. raise as profit from any thing. So, in Measure for Measure : " He's in for a commodity of brown paper; of which he made five marks ready money.” Steevens.

? I fee, love hath made thee a tame snake,] This term was, in our author's time, frequently used to express a poor contemptible fellow. So, in Sir John Oldcastle, 1600: “ — and you, poor snakes, come seldom to a booty." Again, in Lord Cromwell, 1602 :

- the pooreft snake,
“ That feeds on lemons, pilchards ," MALONE.

Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands
A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?
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 tonguç,
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 filter: 8 but the woman low,
And browner than her brother. Are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;

6 _ purlieus of this forest,] Purlieu, says Manwood's Treatije on the Forest Laws, c. xx. « Is a certaine territorie of ground adjoyning unto the forest, meared and bounded with unmoveable marks, meeres, and boundaries : which territories of ground was also forest, and afterwards disaforefted againe by the perambu. lations made for the severing of the new forest from the old.”

REED. Bullokar, in his Expositor, 1616, describes a purlieu as “ a place neere joining to a forest, where it is lawful for the owner of the ground to hunt, if he can dispend fortie shillings by the yeere, of freeland.” MALONE.

7 Left on your right hand,] i, e. passing by the rank of oziers, and leaving them on your right hand, you will reach the place.

MALONE. - bestows himself Like a ripe fifter:] Of this quaint phraseology there is an example in King Henry IV. P. II: “ How might we see Falstaff beflow himself to-night in his true colours ?" Steeve NS.

9 — but the woman low,] But, which is not in the old copy, was added by the editor of the second folio, to supply the metre, I suspect it is not the word omitted, but have nothing better to propose. MALONE.