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 mafter, you have oft enquir'd Cel. Well; and what of him? Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly plaid Rof. O come, let us remove; The fight of lovers feedeth those in love: [Exeunt SCENE changes to another part of the Foreft. Sil. Sw Enter Silvius and Phebe. Weet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe ; Say, that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness; the common executioner, Whose heart th' accuftom'd fight of death makes hard, But firft begs pardon: (21) will you fterner be Enter Rofalind, Celia and Corin. Phe. I would not be thy executioner; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. (21) will you fterner be, Than He 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 dye by bloody Drops? The Poet muft certainly have wrote that deals and lives &c. i. e. that gets his Bread, and makes a Trade of cutting off Heads. Mr. Warburton. Thou Thou tell'ft me, there is murther in mine eyes; That eyes, that are the frail'ft and fofteft things, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murtherers! And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Now fhew the wound mine eyes have made in thee; Thy palm fome moment keeps: but now mine eyes, 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, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; As, 'till that time, I fhall not pity thee. Rof. And why, I pray you? who might be your mother, (22) That you infult, exult, and rail, at once Over the wretched? (23) what though you have beau ty, (22) That you infult, exult, and all at once (As, Over the wretched?] If the Speaker only intended to accuse the Person spoken to, for infulting and exulting, instead of — it ought to have been, both at once. But on examining, Fact, the Crime of the Perfon accus'd, we shall find, We the Line thus ; That you infult, exult, and rail, at once &c. all at once, according to ought to read Mr. Warburton. Tho' all the printed observ'd to me by an (As, by my faith, I fee no more in you But, mistress, know your felf; down on your knees, Sell when you can, you are not for all markets. 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 fo, as faft as fhe answers 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; Befides, I like you not. If will know my houfe, you Ingenious unknown Correfpondent, who figns himfelf L. H. (and to Whom I can only here make my Acknowledgments) that the Negative ought to be left out. VOL. II. R 'Tis 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by: [Exit. 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 me. Phe. Why, I am forry for thee, gentle Silvius. By giving love, your forrow and my grief Phe. Thou haft my love; is not that neighbourly? Phe. Why, that were Covetousness. Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee; That I fhall think it a moft plenteous crop That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then. A fcatter'd fmile, and that I'll live upon. Phe. Know'st thou the youth, that spoke to me erewhile? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds, That the old Carlot once was mafter of. Phe. Think not, I love him, tho' I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevish boy, yet he talks well. But what care I for words? yet words do well, When When he, that speaks them, pleases those that hear: But, fure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him A little riper, and more lufty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas juft the difference He faid, mine eyes were black, and my hair black: But that's all one; omittance is no quittance. The matter's in my head, and in my heart, [Exeunt. |