Raf. Well, time is the old Juftice that examines all fuch offenders, and let time try. Adieu! [Exit Orla. Cel. You have fimply mifus'd our fex in your loveprate: we must have your doublet and hofe pluck'd over your head, and fhew the world what the bird hath done to her own neft, Rof. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love; but it cannot be founded: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal. Cel. Or rather, bottomlefs; that as faft as you pour affection in, it runs out. Rof. No, that fame wicked baftard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rafcally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love; I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the fight of Orlando; I'll go find a thadow, and figh 'till he come. Cel. And I'll fleep. Enter Jaques, Lords, and Forefters. Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer? [Exeunt. Jaq. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman Conqueror; and it would do well to fet the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory; have you no Song, Forefter, for this purpofe? For. Yes, Sir. Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, fo it make noise enough. Mufick, Song. What shall be have that kill'd the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear; Then fing him home: - take Thou no Scorn (24) To (24) Then fing him home, the reft fhall bear this Burthen.] This is an admirable Inftance of the Sagacity of our preceding Editors, to fay Nothing To wear the born, the horn, the horn: It was a creft ere thou waft born. And thy father bore it, The horn, the horn, the lufty horn, Enter Rofalind and Celia. 7 The Reft fhall bear this Bur then. [Exeunt. Rof. How fay you now, is it not past two o'clock? I wonder much, Orlando is not here. Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to fleep: look, who comes here. Enter Silvius. Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth, Rof. Patience her felf would ftartle at this letter, Sil. No, I proteft, I know not the contents; Nothing worse. One fhould expect, when they were Poets, they would at leaft have taken care of the Rhymes, and not foifted in what has Nothing to answer it. Now, where is the Rhyme to, the reft fhall bear this Burthen? Or, to ask another Queftion, where is the Sense of it? Does the Poet mean, that He, that kill'd the Deer, fhall be fung home, and the Reft fhall bear the Deer on their Backs. This is laying a Burthen on the Poet, that We muft help him to throw off. In fhort, the Mystery of the Whole is, that a Marginal Note is wifely thruft into the Text: the Song being defign'd to be fung by a fingle Voice, and the Stanza's to clofe with a Burthen to be fung by the whole Company. Phebe Phebe did write it. Rof. Come, come, you're a fool, And turn'd into th' extremity of love. I saw her hand, he has a leathern hand, A free-ftone-coloured hand; I verily did think, This is a man's invention, and his hand. Sil. Sure, it is hers. Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel ftile, Than in their countenance; will you hear the letter? Rof. She Phebe's me; mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads.] Art thou God to fhepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? Can a woman rail thus? Sil. Call you this railing? Rof. [Reads.] Why, thy Godhead laid apart, If the corn of your bright eyne Will the faithful offer take Rof. Do you pity him? no, he deferves no pity: wilt thou love fuch 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 fee, love hath made thee a tame fnake,) and say this to her; that if the love me, I charge her to love thee: if the 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 Sil. Enter Oliver. Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if know, Where in the purlews of this forest stands you Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbour bottom, The rank of ofiers, by the murmuring ftream, Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Rof. I am; what muft we understand by this? What What man I am, and how, and why, and where Cel. I pray you, tell it. Oli. When laft the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again Within an hour; and pacing through the foreft, A wretched ragged man, o'er-grown with hair, And with indented glides did flip away Lay couching head on ground, with cat-like watch To prey on nothing that doth feem as dead: This feen, Orlando did approach the man, And found it was his brother, his elder brother. Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that fame brother, And he did render him the most unnatural That liv'd 'mongst men. Oli. And well he might fo do; For, well I know, he was unnatural. Rof. But to Orlando; did he leave him there Food to the fuck'd and hungry lioness? Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd fo : But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, And nature stronger than his juft occafion, Made him give battel to the lioness, Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling Gel. Are you his brother? Rof. |