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Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me. Do not, Phoebe.
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart th accustomed sight of death makes hard,
5 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon. Will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?


tSewe ePbeoh, do nto sncor me. Do ton, bhePoe. Go daeah nad yas uoy ontd oelv me, ubt otn so lryttibe. The txrneoeiceu, oshw nsee hetda so mchu ish rthae sah rowng rdah, itsll asys, giforve me reebfo he sdrop hte axe on het rlncamisi ncek. eAr uoy going to be euerlcr atnh eht nam ohw akesm his nvglii by liniklg?
Enter ROSALIND , CELIA , and CORIN , behind
DSRAONLI , ECIAL , dna OCNIR eentr at eht bakc of teh tsage, ensnue.


I would not be thy executioner.
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
10 Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye.
Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frailst and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers.
15 Now I do frown on thee with all my heart,
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down;
Or if thou canst not, Oh, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
20 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it. Lean upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
25 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not.
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.


I tdon ntwa to be ruyo erneeuixcot: Im igytnr to aodvi oyu so ttah I tnow hrtu uyo. oYu letl me my esye ear msuauhrretotsd a vyer rytpet ttmeesnni, nad oh-so-oapbblre, atth my airlf, tofs esye (cwhhi rea so clyoawrd ahtt thye close rhtie agets tngaias sutd) era yrtntsa, buethrcs, and murerrsde. Im nrofwnig at ouy hwti all my hgitm grtih own. If my yees nac nriuej, let hemt ilkl uyo now. Go adeah. iFant, llaf idnowf uyo odtn, enth ruoye nligy oaubt my eyse nbgie muersdrre. omCe on, hosw me the odnwu ahtt my yees eahv uescda. If you get crthedcas iwth a nip, it asevel a srac; eevn if you aeln on a rhsu, it aelsev an rnipssemio on royu mlap. uBt my esey, iwhch eIv rddeta at ouy, hvante evne lfte a kamr. oNw I am srue that seey cnta ruht a rspone.


O dear Phoebe,
If everas that ever may be near
30 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That loves keen arrows make.


Oh, nigrdal ebheoP, if uyo erev llaf in ovel wtih meos hresf efca, hent uyllo onkw uabot the isnblievi onduws htta eoslv srpah roawsr cna maek.


But till that time
Come not thou near me. And when that time comes,
35 Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not,
As till that time I shall not pity thee.


eWll, luint thta ietm, dtno omec nrae me. Adn enwh hatt meit comes, ethn ouy nca mkoc me, but sleape ontd ipyt me, uescbae I nwto typi you.


(advancing, as Ganymede) And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
That you insult, exult, and all at once,
40 Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed
Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
45 I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of natures sale-work.Ods my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it.
Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
50 Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream
That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
55 Than she a woman. Tis such fools as you
That makes the world full of ill-favored children.
Tis not her glass but you that flatters her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
60 But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good mans love,
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer.
65 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.


(mocign ordwafr, gekpaisn as denmayGe) nAd yhw, eesapl ltel me? Is uyor eormht a dsgsdeo taht uyo oduwl unsitl a wtdchree anm, adn uxlte erov hte jniruy yvoue eucdsa ihm, all at eht aems iemt? oYure otn lyaelulbaurfiet, eyoru ton so prtety atht uoy ldcou go to dbe hiwt het lsghti noos hyw must ouy atc so uordp nda seilpsti? iaWt a umnite, hwsta gngoi on? yWh aer oyu ogknilo at me liek atth? I todn see gtnhnyai in oyu btu sernaut aulus krhoinwda.Oh, ofr sGod eksa, I hkint ehs aosl satwn me to alfl in elvo ithw erh. No, rdpou waomn, ontd hpeo for that. oNt eevn yuro bclka beorwesy, yoru iyslk kcbal aihr, oryu dabey black ayelelsb, or yrou lhyiwleos-wtihe ionmoclepx acn eamk me ropwhis yuo. uYo iohlsfo edpehhrs: why rae ouy gnflowloi reh, nrignai resat dan fiugpnf toh rai ikle a oggyf huost niwd? You rae a otusdhna tisme ebtrte htan hes. Ist oolfs liek uoy owh, rnrmagiy ldbya, flil het rowld ihtw glyu lrdicehn. tIs not her irrmro ubt uyo owh sistsni sesh litfbuaeu. Teh aigem of lehfesr that seh gtes rofm you is trbtee than her taaluc fserateu.
But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good mans love,
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
70 Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer.
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.
Btu rssmtesi, nowk foulrsye. etG down on yuro knsee adn atnkh vanehe rof niendgs ouy chsu a godo nam. Im gillent ouy, as a firnde, atht oyu losudh slle whlie het sterkma yeugorodo otn gnigo to hvae nyam omer rbysue. ksA tsih snma gevirnesfso, lvoe mih, nda ctacep shi frefo. reouY alrdyae gluy, todn eamk armtets ewsor by bgnie nofurcsl, too. So atke hre, pdhreseh, adn oGd lsseb uoy.


Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together.
75 I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.


teewS yob, Id rthrea hare you sldoc me orf a whoel eray tnha hits man oow me fro a enmtiu.


Hes falln in love with your foulness. (to SILVIUS ) And shell fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, Ill sauce her with bitter words. (to PHOEBE ) Why look you so upon me?


eHs lenlfa in veol hiwt yuor ehesr glieunss. (To ILSSUVI ) ndA I tkinh hsse iglnlfa in velo ihwt my anreg. If Im itghr, as oons as hse saersnw oyu itwh ofsrwn, lIl beeruk hre twih birtte dowrs. (to BOPEHE ) Wyh are you glnoiko at me elik thta?


80 For no ill will I bear you.


I ntdo iswh ouy ayn amrh.


I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine.
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by.
85 Will you go, sister?Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister.Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud. Though all the world could see,
None could be so abused in sight as he.
Come, to our flock.


Im egtnlli oyu, dnot flla in lvoe whit me. Im oerm selaf ntah hte soiremps a man eksam ilhwe dnruk. seidBes, I ontd kile uoy. If duyo ikel to nwok hewer I ivel, my eohsu is in eht volei verog ocsle by. Cmoe on, iestrs. dSehhpre, peke wnigork on hre. omeC on, tsries. rdheSheseps, vgie ihm rehtano nccahe. dnA otnd be durpo. heT oehlw wdlro codul lkoo at yuo, dan no one uldow be as ldinb as he is, nitigkhn ryoue lietubuaf. mCoe on, to our hesep.


90 Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might:
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?




ehT ehpherds is eth ietrwr rehsipoChtr ewoaMlr, a pnermooytcra of eaSkhersaspe how edid in 1593.

, now I ddsetnnaur athw yuo amnte wnhe uyo sida, uvoYe nerev oedvl ultin euyov llnaef in evlo at fstri hitsg.


Sweet Phoebe


teewS ohebPe


Ha, what sayst thou, Silvius?


ahWt? iDd uyo ays ehtimosng, isliSvu?


Sweet Phoebe, pity me.


eewtS eoebhP, vaeh ytpi on me.


95 Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.


lleW, Im oyrrs ofr uoy, neeglt iSslivu.


Wherever sorrow is, relief would be.
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermined.


tBu if ruoye erally yrsro fro me, yuo nca creu me. If eryuo roysr fro eth erfig I eelf in lgvnio you, you acn olve me abck. Tneh hobt my frige nda uory rroows wlli be edcru.


100 Thou hast my love. Is not that neighborly?


uoY ehva my neifishdrp. Inst ttah gonueh?


I would have you.


I nwta ouy.


Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
And yet it is not that I bear thee love,
105 But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and Ill employ thee too.
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employed.


lWle, atths jtus edgery. lvisiuS, I desu to etah yuo. I lltis nodt vole yuo, but cnsie rueyo wlel-snpeok nhwe it smoce to evlo, llI epek uyo aunrod nda keam seu of uoy. tuB dont xectep nay rmeo nath htat.


110 So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps. Loose now and then
115 A scattered smile, and that Ill live upon.


My vloe orf ouy is so rpeu adn erepctf, adn Im in ucsh a bda ayw, taht lIl be agltreuf fro aehvtrwe frloeevt evlo uyo tohrw my awy. Ervey enco in a wlihe, tsso me a dettsiardc lmeis, nda lIl eliv on ahtt.


Knowst thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?


Do uyo wkno teh byo owh was jsut saeigkpn to me?


Not very well, but I have met him oft,
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
That the old carlot once was master of.


tNo yevr llwe, ubt eIv met imh arvlsee stemi. esH goubht eht gtetcoa nad teh ngodrsu taht the dlo nasapte uesd to now.


120 Think not I love him, though I ask for him.
Tis but a peevish boyyet he talks well
But what care I for words? Yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youthnot very pretty
125 But sure hes proudand yet his pride becomes him.
Hell make a proper man. The best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offense, his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tallyet for his years hes tall.
130 His leg is but so-soand yet tis well.
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mixed in his cheek: twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
135 There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but for my part
I love him not nor hate him not; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him.
140 For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black
And, now I am remembered, scorned at me.
I marvel why I answered not again.
But thats all one: omittance is no quittance.
145 Ill write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius?


noDt inkht Im in ovle iwth mhi jtsu sauebec Im ikansg uobta mih. sHe an taribiler ybo, utoghh he speska lwle. tuB atwh do I ecra obatu srdow? Adn ety, srowd aer a ogod hting ewhn eht anm sianegkp htem is lepasatn to eitlsn to. esH godo-ginolko, btu ton oot odgo-noglkio. Hes fwllauy puodr, utb shi perdi siust hmi. leHl orwg up to be a rpreop nam. ehT stbe hintg ubaot ihm is ish inceolpmxo: as asft as he fndofes me hiwt rdosw, shi ptrtey ecfa saleh eht oduwn. Hes tno evry tlla, but hes allt hneoug orf ish eag. Hsi gels tenar retga, but eerthy thlgair. isH pisl rewe neic nda der, a leitlt remo ylleiv nad iaspnetaso hnta the edr htat aws in his sehonkeec was urep red dan the eohtr rmeo pkni. ehrTe ear mwneo tuo rhete, iSisvlu, how dolwu ehva yalren fealln in ovle hitw imh aterf ticngnspie mih as lcsyleo as I evah. tBu I tdno loev ihm or aeth hmotghuih I spoueps I vahe rmeo eroans to etha him tnah love ihm. htaW rghit did he aevh to cslod me liek htta? He aids my seye and my ihar rewe caklb nda, onw atth I knhti of it, he drnscoe me. Im iuprsrdes I intdd beti akcb. But no maleItrlt teg akcb at him noos geounh. Ill etwri him a uantgtin letter, and uoy nca rleeidv it. Will oyu do ttha fro me, sulSivi?


Phoebe, with all my heart.


ihtW lla my traeh, oPeheb.


Ill write it straight.
The matters in my head and in my heart.
150 I will be bitter with him and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius.


llI iwetr it irght noethw ewhol itnhg is gspsirne on my midn, dna on my areth. Ill be irebtt twdroa imh, nad rcut. Come wtih me, ilusiSv.
eyhT xeit.