Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born:
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it: 16
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.'
Scene Three
[The Forest of Arden]
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two
o'clock? And here much Orlando!
Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and a
troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and ar- 4
rows, and is gone forth to sleep.
Enter Silvius.
Look, who comes here.
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth.
My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this: 8
I know not the contents; but, as I guess
By the stern brow and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me; 12
I am but as a guiltless messenger.
Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer: bear this, bear all:
She says I am not fair; that I lack manners; 16
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me
Were man as rare as phœnix. 'Od's my will!
18 phœnix; cf. n.
