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From “As You Like It,” Act III. Sc. 5.
THINK not I love him, though I ask for him; | |
| ’T is 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. | |
| But, sure, he ’s proud; and yet his pride becomes him: | 5 |
| He ’ll make a proper man: The best thing in him | |
| Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue | |
| Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. | |
| He is not very tall; yet for his years he ’s tall; | |
| His leg is but so so; and yet ’t is well: | 10 |
| There was a pretty redness in his lip, | |
| A little riper and more lusty red | |
| Than that mixed in his cheek; ’t was just the difference | |
| Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. | |
| There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him | 15 |
| In parcels, as I did, would have gone near | |
| 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? | 20 |
| He said mine eyes were black and my hair black; | |
| And, now I am remembered, scorned at me: | |
| I marvel, why I answered not again: | |
| But that ’s all one; omittance is no quittance. | |
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