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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
After the fhepherd that complain'd of love;
Whom you faw fitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud difdainful shepherdefs
That was his mistress.

Cel. Well, and what of him?

Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love,
And the red glow of fcorn and proud difdain;
Go hence a little, and I fhall conduct you,
If you will mark it.

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,

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Methought fome Staves he mift:
if fo, not much amiss:
For when he moft did bit, he ever
yet did mifs,

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.

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Bring us but to this fight, and you fhall fay
I'll prove a busy Actor in their Play.


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Changes to another part of the Forest.


Enter Silvius and Phebe.


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,
Falls not the ax upon the humbled neck,

But first begs pardon: will you fterner be2
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops??

Enter Rofalind, Celia and Corin. Pa

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'ft and fofteft things,
Who fhut their coward gates on atomies,

Jacill you fterner be,
Than he that dies and lives by

bloody drops? This is fpoken of the executioner. He lives indeed, by bloody Drops,

if you
will: but how does he die
by bloody Drops The poet muft
certainly have wrote that deals
and lives, &c. i. e. that gets his
bread by, and makes a trade of
cutting off heads. But the Ox-
ford Editor makes it plainer. He

Than he that lives and thrives by
bloody drops.


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 do I frown on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee
Now counterfeit to fwoon; why, now fall down;
Or if thou can'ft not, oh, for fhame, for fhame,
Lye not to fay mine eyes are murderers.

Now fhew the wound mine eyes have made in thee
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some fear of it; lean but upon a rush,

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 ^,
Then fhall you know the wounds invisible

That love's keen arrows make.

Phe. But 'till that time,

Come not thou near me; and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;

As, 'till that time, I fhall not pity thee.
Rof. And why, I pray you?



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Who might be your

That you infult, exult, and all at once

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Over the wretched what though you have beauty 7,
(As, by my faith, I fee no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed),
Muft your be therefore proud and pitiless 2
Why, what means this why do you look on me?
I fee no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature's fale-work: odds, my little life! {
I think, fhe means to angle mine eyes too
No, faith, proud miftrefs, hope not after it;
'Tis not your inky brows, your black filk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my fpirits to your worship.
You foolish thepherd, wherefore do you follow her
Like foggy South, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thoufand times a properer man,
Than the a woman. 'Tis fuch fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children;
'Tis not her glafs, but you, that flatter her;
And out of you the fees herself more proper,
Than any of her lineaments can fhow her.
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
And thank heav'n fafting, for a good man's love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,

Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.

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Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer;
Foul is moft foul, being foul to be a fcoffer:
So take her to thee, fhepherd-fare you well,,
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together;
I had rather hear you chide, than this man, woo.

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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.

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Rof. I pray you, do not fall in love with me; For I am falfer than vows made in wine;


Befides, I like you not. If you will know my houfe,
'Tis at the tuft of Olives, here hard by..
Will you go, Sifter?-Shepherd, ply her hard-
Come, fifter fhepherdefs, look on him better,
And be not proud. Though all the world could fee,
None could be fo abus'd in fight as hejologs

Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Rof. Cel. and Corin,

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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

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Phe. Why, I am forry for thee, gentle Silvius.
Sil. Where-ever forrow is, relief would be

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