Enter Silvius and Phoebe. SILVIUS
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? Enter, unobserved, Rosalind as Ganymede, Celia as
Aliena, and Corin. PHOEBE
I would not be thy executioner.
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 10
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye.
’Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st 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, O, 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. SILVIUS O dear Phoebe,
If ever—as that ever may be near— 30
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love’s keen arrows make. PHOEBE But till that time
Come not thou near me. And when that time 35
comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not,
As till that time I shall not pity thee. | Silvius and Phoebe enter bickering and Rosalind, Celia, and Corin eavesdrop. Silvius is pretty pathetic. He says Phoebe may not love him, but he asks her to at least not be so bitter about the whole thing. Phoebe replies that Silvius claimed her eyes could kill. He has lied, because she has tried to kill him with her eyes and he's still around. (Ouch.) Brain snack: Silvius is acting like a typical "Petrarchan lover" here. Petrarch was a 14th-century Italian poet whose love poetry featured the unattainable and cruel Laura, a beautiful woman who drove the poet crazy with her luscious body and cold demeanor. She also had the ability to "wound" men with her icy stare. Phoebe, in case you haven't noticed, acts a lot like Laura. Silvius says if Phoebe ever does find that she fancies him, then she'll understand what it feels like to be wounded by Cupid's arrows. Phoebe says great. Until that happens, leave me alone. |
ROSALIND, as Ganymede, coming forward
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? 45
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work.—’Od’s my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes, too.—
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it. 50
’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
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? 55
You are a thousand times a properer man
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 60
Than any of her lineaments can show her.—
But, mistress, know yourself. Down on your knees
And thank heaven, fasting, 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. 65
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. PHOEBE
Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together.
I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. 70 ROSALIND, as Ganymede He’s fall’n in love with your
foulness. To Silvius. And she’ll fall in love with
my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with
frowning looks, I’ll sauce her with bitter words. To
Phoebe. Why look you so upon me? 75 PHOEBE For no ill will I bear you. ROSALIND, as Ganymede
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.— 80
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. 85 She exits, with Celia and Corin. | Rosalind/Ganymede steps in and tells Phoebe she shouldn't be so insulting to poor Silvius, as she's not pretty enough to leave the lights on when she goes to bed with someone. Yikes! Rosalind/Ganymede then turns to Silvius and says he's an idiot for letting Phoebe treat him like garbage. She also adds that it's "fools" like Silvius who are responsible for the world being full of ugly "children." And Rosalind/Ganymede doesn't stop there. She turns back to Phoebe and advises her to sell now, while she's got a buyer, because she won't have more. (Read: Marry this guy—he might be your only shot.) Phoebe's response? She falls for Rosalind/Ganymede, of course. Rosalind/Ganymede tells Phoebe that would be a big mistake—Rosalind/Ganymede is not what s/he appears to be. (Understatement.) Then she heads off with Celia and Corin. |
PHOEBE, aside
Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might:
“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” SILVIUS
Sweet Phoebe— PHOEBE Ha, what sayst thou, Silvius? SILVIUS Sweet Phoebe, pity me. 90 PHOEBE
Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. SILVIUS
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. 95 PHOEBE
Thou hast my love. Is not that neighborly? SILVIUS
I would have you. PHOEBE Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee;
And yet it is not that I bear thee love; 100
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure, and I’ll employ thee too.
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. 105 SILVIUS
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 110
A scattered smile, and that I’ll live upon. PHOEBE
Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile? SILVIUS
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. 115 PHOEBE
Think not I love him, though I ask for him.
’Tis but a peevish boy—yet 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 youth—not very pretty— 120
But sure he’s proud—and yet his pride becomes
him.
He’ll 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. 125
He is not very tall—yet for his years he’s tall.
His leg is but so-so—and 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 130
difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they marked
him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near 135
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.
For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black, 140
And now I am remembered, scorned at me.
I marvel why I answered not again.
But that’s all one: omittance is no quittance.
I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius? 145 SILVIUS
Phoebe, with all my heart. PHOEBE I’ll write it straight.
The matter’s in my head and in my heart.
I will be bitter with him and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius. 150 They exit. | Phoebe claims that she now loves Silvius...in an "I don't exactly detest your company anymore" sort of way. She hatches a plan to get Silvius to help her win over Ganymede. Because Silvius is desperately in love, he'll do whatever she wants. Phoebe makes a big speech about she's not in love with Ganymede, even though other women probably would be. Thing is, he scorned her, so she wants to write him a mean letter and have Silvius deliver it for her...except it's pretty obvious that the letter isn't going to be mean. It's going to be a love letter, and Silvius is being played. |