lover; as a puifny tilter, that fpurs his horfe but on one fide, breaks his ftaff like a noble goofe; but all's brave that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes here?: Enter Corin. Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft enquired Cel. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly play'd, Rof. Come, let us remove; The fight of lovers feedeth thofe in love; his Lance broken across, as it was a mark either of want of Courage or Addrefs. This happen'd when the horse flew on one fide, in the career: And hence, I fuppofe, arofe the jocular proverbial phrafe of purring the horse only on one fide. Now as breaking the Lance against his Adverfary's breaft, in a direct line, was honourable, fo the breaking it across against his breaft was, for the reafon above, difhonourable: Hence it is, that Sidney, in his Arcadia, fpeaking of the mock combat of Clinias and Dametas fays, The wind took fuch hold of his Staff that it croft quite over his breaft, &a- -And to break across was the ufual phrafe, as appears from fome wretched verfes of the fame author, speaking of an unskilful Tilter, Methought fome Staves he mift: One faid he brake across, full well it fo might be, &c. This is the allufion. So that Or lando, a young Gallant, affecting the fashion (for brave is here ufed, as in other places, for fafhionable) is reprefented either unfkilful in courtship, or timorous. The Lover's meeting or appointment correfponds to the Tilter's Carreer: And as the one breaks Staves, the other breaks Oaths. The bufinefs is only meeting fairly, and doing both with Addrefs: And 'tis for the want of this, that Orlando is blamed. Bring us but to this fight, and you fhall fay Sil. S CEN E ΧΙ. Changes to another part of the Forest. Swe Enter Silvius and Phebe. [Exeunt. Weet Phebe, do not fcorn me-do not, Phebe Say, that you love me not; but say not fo In bitterness; the common executioner, Whofe heart th' accuftom'd fight of death makes hard, But first begs pardon: will you fterner be2 Enter Rofalind, Celia and Corin. Pa Phe. I would not be thy executioner; That eyes, that are the frail'ft and fofteft things, Jacill you fterner be, bloody drops? This is fpoken of the executioner. He lives indeed, by bloody Drops, if you Than he that lives and thrives by WARBURTON. Either Dr. Warburton's emendation, except that the word deals wants its proper conftruction, or that of Sir T. Hanmer may ferve the purpofe; but I believe they have fixed corruption upon the wrong word, and should rather read, Than be that dies his lips by bloody drops? Will you speak with more fternnefs than the executioner, whose lips are used to be sprinkled with blood? The mention of drops implies fome part that must be sprinkled rather than dipped, F4 Should Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Now fhew the wound mine eyes have made in thee The cicatrice and capable impreffure3 : Thy Palm fome moments keeps; but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not; Nor, I am fure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. Sil. O dear Phebe, If ever (as that ever may be near) You meet in fome fresh cheek the power of fancy ^, That love's keen arrows make. Phe. But 'till that time, Come not thou near me; and when that time comes, As, 'till that time, I fhall not pity thee. mother 5 Who might be your That you infult, exult, and all at once Over the wretched what though you have beauty 7, Sell when you can; you are not for all markets. Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer; Rof. [afide.] He's fallen in love with her foulness, and he'll fall in love with my anger. If it be fo, as faft as fhe anfwers thee, with frowning looks, I'll fauce her with bitter words. Why look, you fo upon me? Phe. For no ill will I bear you. Rof. I pray you, do not fall in love with me; For I am falfer than vows made in wine; A Befides, I like you not. If you will know my houfe, Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Rof. Cel. and Corin, Phe. Dead fhepherd, now I find thy Saw of might Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first fight ?, Sil. Sweet Phebe! Phe. Hah: what fay'ft thou, Silvius ! Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity mes arts Phe. Why, I am forry for thee, gentle Silvius. |