Page:As You Like It (1919) Yale.djvu/80

68

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 call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers!

Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;

And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee;

Now counterfeit to swound; why now fall down;

Or, if thou canst not, O! for shame, for shame,

Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.

Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee;

Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains

Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,

The cicatrice and capable impressure

Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,

Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,

Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes

That can do hurt.

Sil.O dear Phebe,

If ever,—as that ever may be near,—

You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,

Then shall you know the wounds invisible

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 shall not pity thee.

Ros. [Advancing.] And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,

That you insult, exult, and all at once,

 11 sure: surely

17 swound: swoon

23 cicatrice: scar, here 'mark'

capable impressure: sensible (i.e., receivable) impression

29 fancy: love 