'
SILVIUS. Call you this chiding?
CELIA. Alas, poor shepherd!
ROSALIND. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou
love
such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument, and play
false
strains upon thee! Not to be endur'd! Well, go your way to
her,
for I see love hath made thee tame snake, and say this to
her-
that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she 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 SILVIUS
Enter OLIVER
OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know,
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
CELIA. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom.
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
But at this hour the house doth keep itself;
There's none within.
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