The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: R4r - Comedies, p. 199

Left Column


As you like it. Cel.

Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a

Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie,

the very yce of chastity is in them.

Rosa.

But why did hee sweare hee would come this

[1675]

morning, and comes not ?

Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him. Ros.

Doe you thinke so?

Cel.

Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse­

stealer, but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as

[1680]

concaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme‑eaten nut.

Ros.

Not true in loue?

Cel.

Yes, when he is in, but I thinke he is not in.

Ros.

You haue heard him sweare downright he was.

Cel.

Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Louer is no

[1685]

stronger then the word of a Tapster, they are both the

confirmer of false reckonings, he attends here in the for­

rest on the Duke your father.

Ros.

I met the Duke yesterday, and had much que­

stion with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I

[1690]

told him of as good as he, so he laugh'd and let mee goe.

But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is such a man

as Orlando?

Cel.

O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verses,

speakes braue words, sweares braue oathes, and breakes

[1695]

them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his lo­

uer, as a puisny Tilter, y t spurs his horse but on one side,

breakes his staffe like a noble goose; but all's braue that

youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere?

Enter Corin. Corin. Mistresse and Master, you haue oft enquired
[1700]
After the Shepheard that complain'd of loue, Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph, Praising the proud disdainfull Shepherdesse That was his Mistresse.
Cel. Well: and what of him? Cor.
[1705]
If you will see a pageant truely plaid Betweene the pale complexion of true Loue, And the red glowe of scorne and prowd disdaine, Goe hence a little, and I shall conduct you If you will marke it.
Ros.
[1710]
O come, let vs remoue, The sight of Louers feedeth those in loue: Bring vs to this sight, and you shall say Ile proue a busie actor in their play.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta. [Act 3, Scene 5] Enter Siluius and Phebe. Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not Phebe
[1715]
Say that you loue me not, but say not so In bitternesse; the common executioner Whose heart th'accustom'd sight of death makes hard Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck, But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
[1720]
Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. Phe. I would not be thy executioner, I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee: Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye, 'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,

Image


[full image]

Right Column


[1725]
That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomyes, Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers. Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart, And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
[1730]
Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe, Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame, Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers: Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee, Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
[1735]
Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush The Cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
[1740]
That can doe hurt.
Sil. O deere Phebe, If euer (as that euer may be neere) You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie, Then shall you know the wounds inuisible
[1745]
That Loues keene arrows make.
Phe. But till that time Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not, As till that time I shall not pitty thee. Ros.
[1750]
And why I pray you? who might be your mother That you insult, exult, and all at once Ouer the wretched? what though you hau no beauty As by my faith, I see no more in you Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:
[1755]
Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse? Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me? I see no more in you then in the ordinary Of Natures sale‑worke ? 'ods my little life, I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:
[1760]
No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it, 'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire, Your bugle eye‑balls, nor your cheeke of creame That can entame my spirits to your worship: You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow her
[1765]
Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine, You are a thousand times a properer man Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you That makes the world full of ill‑fauourd children: 'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,
[1770]
And out of you she sees her selfe more proper Then any of her lineaments can show her: But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees And thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue; For I must tell you friendly in your eare,
[1775]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets: Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer, Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer. So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,
[1780]
I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe.
Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'll Fall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fast As she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauce Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me? Phe.
[1785]
For no ill will I beare you.
Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee, For I am falser then vowes made in wine: Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house, 'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:
[1790]
Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard: Come

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Scena Quinta. [Act 3, Scene 5] Enter Siluius and Phebe. Sil. Sweet Phebe doe not scorne me, do not Phebe
[1715]
Say that you loue me not, but say not so In bitternesse; the common executioner Whose heart th'accustom'd sight of death makes hard Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck, But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
[1720]
Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. Phe. I would not be thy executioner, I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee: Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye, 'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,
[1725]
That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomyes, Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers. Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart, And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
[1730]
Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe, Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame, Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers: Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee, Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
[1735]
Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush The Cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes
[1740]
That can doe hurt.
Sil. O deere Phebe, If euer (as that euer may be neere) You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie, Then shall you know the wounds inuisible
[1745]
That Loues keene arrows make.
Phe. But till that time Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not, As till that time I shall not pitty thee. Ros.
[1750]
And why I pray you? who might be your mother That you insult, exult, and all at once Ouer the wretched? what though you hau no beauty As by my faith, I see no more in you Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:
[1755]
Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse? Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me? I see no more in you then in the ordinary Of Natures sale‑worke ? 'ods my little life, I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:
[1760]
No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it, 'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire, Your bugle eye‑balls, nor your cheeke of creame That can entame my spirits to your worship: You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow her
[1765]
Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine, You are a thousand times a properer man Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you That makes the world full of ill‑fauourd children: 'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,
[1770]
And out of you she sees her selfe more proper Then any of her lineaments can show her: But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees And thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue; For I must tell you friendly in your eare,
[1775]
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets: Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer, Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer. So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,
[1780]
I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe.
Ros. Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, & shee'll Fall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fast As she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauce Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me? Phe.
[1785]
For no ill will I beare you.
Ros. I pray you do not fall in loue with mee, For I am falser then vowes made in wine: Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house, 'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:
[1790]
Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard: Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better And be not proud, though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as hee. Come, to our flocke,
Exit. Phe.
[1795]
Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might, Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?
Sil. Sweet Phebe. Phe. Hah: what saist thou Siluius? Sil. Sweet Phebe pitty me. Phe.
[1800]
Why I am sorry for thee gentle Siluius.
Sil. Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be: If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue, By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe Were both extermin'd. Phe.
[1805]
Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would haue you. Phe. Why that were couetousnesse: Siluius; the time was, that I hated thee; And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,
[1810]
But since that thou canst talke of loue so well, Thy company, which erst was irkesome to me I will endure; and Ile employ thee too: But doe not looke for further recompence Then thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd.
Sil.
[1815]
So holy, and so perfect is my loue, And I in such a pouerty of grace, That I shall thinke it a most plenteous crop To gleane the broken eares after the man That the maine haruest reapes: loose now and then
[1820]
A scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon.
Phe. Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yere­ (while? Sil. Not very well, but I haue met him oft, And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds That the old Carlot once was Master of. Phe.
[1825]
Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him, 'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well, But what care I for words? yet words do well When he that speakes them pleases those that heare: It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,
[1830]
But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him; Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in him Is his complexion: and faster then his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp: He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall:
[1835]
His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well: There was a pretty rednesse in his lip, A little riper, and more lustie red Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske.
[1840]
There be some women Siluius, had they markt him In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere To fall in loue with him: but for my part I loue him not, nor hate him not: and yet Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him,
[1845]
For what had he to doe to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke, And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me: I maruell why I answer'd not againe, But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:
[1850]
Ile write to him a very tanting Letter, And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou Siluius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. Phe. Ile write it strait: The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
[1855]
I will be bitter with him, and passing short; Goe with me Siluius.
Exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="5">
   <head rend="italic center">Scena Quinta.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 3, Scene 5]</head>
   <stage rend="italic" type="entrance">Enter Siluius and Phebe.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1714">Sweet<hi rend="italic">Phebe</hi>doe not scorne me, do not<hi rend="italic">Phebe</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="1715">Say that you loue me not, but say not so</l>
      <l n="1716">In bitternesse; the common executioner</l>
      <l n="1717">Whose heart th'accustom'd sight of death makes hard</l>
      <l n="1718">Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck,</l>
      <l n="1719">But first begs pardon: will you sterner be</l>
      <l n="1720">Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops?</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1721">I would not be thy executioner,</l>
      <l n="1722">I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:</l>
      <l n="1723">Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,</l>
      <l n="1724">'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="1725">That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,</l>
      <l n="1726">Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,</l>
      <l n="1727">Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.</l>
      <l n="1728">Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,</l>
      <l n="1729">And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:</l>
      <l n="1730">Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,</l>
      <l n="1731">Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,</l>
      <l n="1732">Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:</l>
      <l n="1733">Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,</l>
      <l n="1734">Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains</l>
      <l n="1735">Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush</l>
      <l n="1736">The Cicatrice and capable impressure</l>
      <l n="1737">Thy palme some moment keepes: but now mine eyes</l>
      <l n="1738">Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not,</l>
      <l n="1739">Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes</l>
      <l n="1740">That can doe hurt.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1741">O deere<hi rend="italic">Phebe</hi>,</l>
      <l n="1742">If euer (as that euer may be neere)</l>
      <l n="1743">You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie,</l>
      <l n="1744">Then shall you know the wounds inuisible</l>
      <l n="1745">That Loues keene arrows make.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1746">But till that time</l>
      <l n="1747">Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes,</l>
      <l n="1748">Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not,</l>
      <l n="1749">As till that time I shall not pitty thee.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="1750">And why I pray you? who might be your mother</l>
      <l n="1751">That you insult, exult, and all at once</l>
      <l n="1752">Ouer the wretched? what though you hau no beauty</l>
      <l n="1753">As by my faith, I see no more in you</l>
      <l n="1754">Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:</l>
      <l n="1755">Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse?</l>
      <l n="1756">Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me?</l>
      <l n="1757">I see no more in you then in the ordinary</l>
      <l n="1758">Of Natures sale‑worke<c rend="italic">?</c>'ods my little life,</l>
      <l n="1759">I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:</l>
      <l n="1760">No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it,</l>
      <l n="1761">'Tis not your inkie browes, your blacke silke haire,</l>
      <l n="1762">Your bugle eye‑balls, nor your cheeke of creame</l>
      <l n="1763">That can entame my spirits to your worship:</l>
      <l n="1764">You foolish Shepheard, wherefore do you follow her</l>
      <l n="1765">Like foggy South, puffing with winde and raine,</l>
      <l n="1766">You are a thousand times a properer man</l>
      <l n="1767">Then she a woman. 'Tis such fooles as you</l>
      <l n="1768">That makes the world full of ill‑fauourd children:</l>
      <l n="1769">'Tis not her glasse, but you that flatters her,</l>
      <l n="1770">And out of you she sees her selfe more proper</l>
      <l n="1771">Then any of her lineaments can show her:</l>
      <l n="1772">But Mistris, know your selfe, downe on your knees</l>
      <l n="1773">And thanke heauen, fasting, for a good mans loue;</l>
      <l n="1774">For I must tell you friendly in your eare,</l>
      <l n="1775">Sell when you can, you are not for all markets:</l>
      <l n="1776">Cry the man mercy, loue him, take his offer,</l>
      <l n="1777">Foule is most foule, being foule to be a scoffer.</l>
      <l n="1778">So take her to thee Shepheard, fareyouwell.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1779">Sweet youth, I pray you chide a yere together,</l>
      <l n="1780">I had rather here you chide, then this man wooe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="1781">Hees falne in loue with your foulnesse, &amp; shee'll</l>
      <l n="1782">Fall in loue with my anger. If it be so, as fast</l>
      <l n="1783">As she answeres thee with frowning lookes, ile sauce</l>
      <l n="1784">Her with bitter words: why looke you so vpon me?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1785">For no ill will I beare you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="1786">I pray you do not fall in loue with mee,</l>
      <l n="1787">For I am falser then vowes made in wine:</l>
      <l n="1788">Besides, I like you not: if you will know my house,</l>
      <l n="1789">'Tis at the tufft of Oliues, here hard by:</l>
      <l n="1790">Will you goe Sister? Shepheard ply her hard:</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0220-0.jpg" n="200"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1791">Come Sister: Shepheardesse, looke on him better</l>
      <l n="1792">And be not proud, though all the world could see,</l>
      <l n="1793">None could be so abus'd in sight as hee.</l>
      <l n="1794">Come, to our flocke,</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1795">Dead Shepheard, now I find thy saw of might,</l>
      <l n="1796">Who euer lov'd, that lou'd not at first sight?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1797">Sweet<hi rend="italic">Phebe</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1798">Hah: what saist thou<hi rend="italic">Siluius</hi>?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1799">Sweet<hi rend="italic">Phebe</hi>pitty me.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1800">Why I am sorry for thee gentle<hi rend="italic">Siluius</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1801">Where euer sorrow is, reliefe would be:</l>
      <l n="1802">If you doe sorrow at my griefe in loue,</l>
      <l n="1803">By giuing loue your sorrow, and my griefe</l>
      <l n="1804">Were both extermin'd.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1805">Thou hast my loue, is not that neighbourly?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1806">I would haue you.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1807">Why that were couetousnesse:</l>
      <l n="1808">
         <hi rend="italic">Siluius</hi>; the time was, that I hated thee;</l>
      <l n="1809">And yet it is not, that I beare thee loue,</l>
      <l n="1810">But since that thou canst talke of loue so well,</l>
      <l n="1811">Thy company, which erst was irkesome to me</l>
      <l n="1812">I will endure; and Ile employ thee too:</l>
      <l n="1813">But doe not looke for further recompence</l>
      <l n="1814">Then thine owne gladnesse, that thou art employd.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1815">So holy, and so perfect is my loue,</l>
      <l n="1816">And I in such a pouerty of grace,</l>
      <l n="1817">That I shall thinke it a most plenteous crop</l>
      <l n="1818">To gleane the broken eares after the man</l>
      <l n="1819">That the maine haruest reapes: loose now and then</l>
      <l n="1820">A scattred smile, and that Ile liue vpon.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1821">Knowst thou the youth that spoke to mee yere­
      <lb rend="turnover"/>
         <pc rend="turnover">(</pc>while?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1822">Not very well, but I haue met him oft,</l>
      <l n="1823">And he hath bought the Cottage and the bounds</l>
      <l n="1824">That the old<hi rend="italic">Carlot</hi>once was Master of.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1825">Thinke not I loue him, though I ask for him,</l>
      <l n="1826">'Tis but a peeuish boy, yet he talkes well,</l>
      <l n="1827">But what care I for words? yet words do well</l>
      <l n="1828">When he that speakes them pleases those that heare:</l>
      <l n="1829">It is a pretty youth, not very prettie,</l>
      <l n="1830">But sure hee's proud, and yet his pride becomes him;</l>
      <l n="1831">Hee'll make a proper man: the best thing in him</l>
      <l n="1832">Is his complexion: and faster then his tongue</l>
      <l n="1833">Did make offence, his eye did heale it vp:</l>
      <l n="1834">He is not very tall, yet for his yeeres hee's tall:</l>
      <l n="1835">His leg is but so so, and yet 'tis well:</l>
      <l n="1836">There was a pretty rednesse in his lip,</l>
      <l n="1837">A little riper, and more lustie red</l>
      <l n="1838">Then that mixt in his cheeke: 'twas iust the difference</l>
      <l n="1839">Betwixt the constant red, and mingled Damaske.</l>
      <l n="1840">There be some women<hi rend="italic">Siluius</hi>, had they markt him</l>
      <l n="1841">In parcells as I did, would haue gone neere</l>
      <l n="1842">To fall in loue with him: but for my part</l>
      <l n="1843">I loue him not, nor hate him not: and yet</l>
      <l n="1844">Haue more cause to hate him then to loue him,</l>
      <l n="1845">For what had he to doe to chide at me?</l>
      <l n="1846">He said mine eyes were black, and my haire blacke,</l>
      <l n="1847">And now I am remembred, scorn'd at me:</l>
      <l n="1848">I maruell why I answer'd not againe,</l>
      <l n="1849">But that's all one: omittance is no quittance:</l>
      <l n="1850">Ile write to him a very tanting Letter,</l>
      <l n="1851">And thou shalt beare it, wilt thou<hi rend="italic">Siluius</hi>?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-sil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Sil.</speaker>
      <l n="1852">
         <hi rend="italic">Phebe</hi>, with all my heart.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-ayl-phe">
      <speaker rend="italic">Phe.</speaker>
      <l n="1853">Ile write it strait:</l>
      <l n="1854">The matter's in my head, and in my heart,</l>
      <l n="1855">I will be bitter with him, and passing short;</l>
      <l n="1856">Goe with me<hi rend="italic">Siluius</hi>.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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