PHEBE

Phebe’s speeches and analyses.

Phebe | Act 3, Scene 5 | 11-30

I would not be thy executioner…

Source
Cambridge | Cynthia Marshall. London: Cambridge University Press, 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

Thought Counts
Cambridge | 2004

Short: 1
Medium: 5
Long: 1
Total: 7

End-stopped: 5
Mid-line: 2

Periods: 6
Exclamations: 1
Questions: 0
Unfinished: 0

Objective

 

Phebe needs Silvius:

to take back what he said about her eyes…

Thoughts
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
1. I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
2. Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!
3. Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
4. Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
5. Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
6. Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. 7. But now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

Line Analysis
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;                    10R
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.              10R
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:   10R
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable       10R
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,   10R
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,     10R
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!    10
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;      10R 10
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.    11w
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down .      10R
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,      10R
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.       10R
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.   10R
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains .   10
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,        10R | 10
The cicatrice and capable impressure       11w
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,   10R
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,    10R
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes .    10R 10
That can do hurt.                                 4 unfinished

Phrasing and Tempo
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee <c> for I would not injure thee.  pause   slowly?
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:      slowly?
‘Tis pretty, <c> sure, <c> and very probable
That eyes, <c> that are the frail’st <c> and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, <c> butchers, <c> murderers!  pause   carefully
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;       slowly
And if mine eyes can wound, <c> now let them kill thee.   pause    slowly
Now counterfeit to swoon, <c> why, <c> now fall down  carefully
Or, <c> if thou canst not, <c> O for shame, <c> for shame,   slowly
Lie not, <c> to say mine eyes are murderers.  pause
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.  pause    slowly
Scratch thee but with a pin, <c> and there remains   slowly? carefully
Some scar of it; <c> lean but upon a rush,    slowly?
The cicatrice <cand capable impressure    carefully
Thy palm some moment keeps. <c, quicklyBut now mine eyes,   carefully slowly
Which I have darted at thee, <c> hurt thee not,
Nor, <c> I am sure, <c> there is no force in eyes   slowly
That can do hurt.                            slowly

Sounds
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

Rhetoric
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;                      (imagery, hyperbole, metaphor, irony)
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:                 (imagery, personification)
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,           (this and that)
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,                        (imagery, metaphor)
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!               (list)
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.                              (hyperbole)
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains                   (imagery, list)
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,                        (metaphor)
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

Before and After
Cambridge | 2004

SCENE V. Another part of the forest.

Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE

SILVIUS
Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe;
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart the accustom’d sight of death makes hard,
Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

SILVIUS
O dear Phebe,
If ever,–as that ever may be near,–
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love’s keen arrows make.

PHEBE
But till that time
Come not thou near me: and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;
As till that time I shall not pity thee.

Definitions
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.  pause   slowly?
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:      slowly?
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!  pause   carefully
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;       slowly
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.   pause    slowly
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down  carefully
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,   slowly
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.  pause
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.  pause    slowly
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains   slowly? carefully
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,    slowly?
The cicatrice and capable impressure    carefully
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,   carefully slowly
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes   slowly
That can do hurt.                            slowly

Translation
Cambridge | 2004

PHEBE
I would not be thy executioner;
I fly thee for I would not injure thee.
Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:
‘Tis pretty, sure, and very probable
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers!
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee.
Now counterfeit to swoon, why, now fall down
Or, if thou canst not, O for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers.
Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee.
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps. But now mine eyes,
Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.

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