Reading As You Like It — William Shakespeare

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Section 589

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Phe.

I would not be thy executioner,

I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee:

Thou tellst me there is murder in mine eye,

'Tis pretty sure, and very probable,

That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things,

Who shut their coward gates on atomyes,

Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers.

Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart,

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

Now counterfeit to swound, why now fall downe,

Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame,

Lye not, to say mine eyes are murtherers:

Now shew the wound mine eye hath made in thee,

Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains

Some scarre of it: Leane vpon a rush

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