Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, 20
This is a letter of your own device.
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents:
Phebe did write it.
Ros.Come, come, you are a fool,
And turn'd into the extremity of love. 24
I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands:
She has a housewife's hand; but that's no matter: 28
I say she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention, and his hand.
Sil. Sure, it is hers.
Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 32
A style for challengers; why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect 36
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Ros. She Phebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads.] 40
'Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?'
Can a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call you this railing? 44
Ros. [reads.]
'Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?'
25 hand: handwriting
26 freestone-colour'd: brick-colored
34 Turk to Christian; cf. n.
35 giant-rude: excessively rude
36 Ethiop: dark
45 laid apart: put away
