His leg is but so fe, and yet ’tis

well ;
There was a pretty redness in his Tip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damalk.
There be fome women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
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 ?
He said, mine eyes were black, and my

hair black :
And, now I ain remembred, scornd at me ;
I marvel, why I answer'd not again ;
But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting létter,
And thou shalt bear it ; wilt thou, Silvius ?.

Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

Phe. I'll write it straight;
The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and passing short ;
Go with me, Silvius.

[Exeunt.

ACTIV. SCENE I.

Continues in the FOREST.
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques.

JAQUES.
Pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted

with thee.
Rol. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Jag. lam so ; I do love it better than laughing.

Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows ; and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards.

Jag. Why, 'tis good to be sad, and say nothing.
RL. Why, then, 'tis good to be a post.

Jog. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation ; nor the mulician's, which is fantastical

ner

Aor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the foldier's, which is ambittous ; nor the lawyer's, which is politick i nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's which is all these ; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many fimples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, on vihich my often rumination wraps me in a inolt humorous sadness. Rol. A traveller ! By my faith, you

have

great reason to be sad : I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see other mens; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gain'd me experience.

Enter Orlando. Rof. And your experience makes you fad : I had father have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad, and to travel for it too.

Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!

Jaq. Nay then-God b’w'y you, an' you talk in blank verse.

(Exit.

Rol. Farewel, monsieur traveller ; look, you lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable all the benefits of your own Country ; be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for inaking you that countenance you are ; or I will scarce think, you have swam in a Gondola (4):- Why, how now, Orlando, where have

(4) - swim in a Gondola ] That is, been at Venice, the feat at that time of all licentiousnels, where the young Englih gentleinen wasted their for:unes, debaled their morals, and sometimes lot their religion.

The fashion of travelling, which prevailed very much in our author's time, was considered by the wiser men as one of the principal causes of corrupt manners. It was therefore gravely censured by Ajcbam in his Scbool-maffer, and by Bishop Hall in his Quo Vadis, and is here, and in other passages, ridiculed by Shakespeare.

you

N 3

you been all this while ? You a lover ?-an

you

serve me such another trick, never coine in my fight more.

Orla. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

Rof. Break an hour's promise in love ! he that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be Taid of him, that Cupid bath clapt hiin o'th' fhoulder, but I'll warrant him heartwhole.

Orla. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Rof. Nay, an' you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wood of a fnail.

Orla. Of a snail ?

Rof. Ay of a snail ; for tho? he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head : a better jointure, I think, than you can make a woman. Besides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orla. What's that?

Rof. Why, horns ; which such as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for ; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the flander of his wife.

Orla Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Rofalind is virtuous.

Rof. And I am your Rosalind ?

Cel. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a Rofalind of a better leer than you. Rof. Come, woo me, woo me ;

for now I am in a holyday humour, and like enough to consent. What would you say to nie now, an' I were your very, very Rosalind?

Oila. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Rof. Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravell’d for lack of matter, you might take occafion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit , and for lovers Tacking, God warn us, matter, the cleanlieft thift is to kils.

Orla. How if the kils be denied?

Rof. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.

Orla. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress ?

Ros.'

L

Rof. Marry, that should you, if I were your miftress ; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Orla. What, of

my

suit ? Rof. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your fuit. Am not I your Rosalind?

Orla. I take some joy to say, you are ; because I would be talking of her.

Rol. Well, in her person, I say, I will not have you.
Orla. Then in mine own person I die.
Rof: No, faith, die by attorney ; the

poor

world is almost fix thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love cause. Troilus had his brains dath'd out with a Grecian club, yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of tove. Teander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, tho' Hero had tyrnd mine if it had not been for a hot midíuinmer night ; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp,

was drown'd ; and the foolith chroniclers of that age 57 found it was, - Hero of Seltos. But there are all Tyes ; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

Orla. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I proteft, her frown might kill me.

Rof. By this hand, it will not kill a fly-but come ; Bow I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on dispofition ; and akk me what you will, I will grant it.

Orla. Then love me, Rosalind.
Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and
all.

Orla. And wilt thou have me?
Rof. Ay, and twenty such.
Orla. What say'st thou ?
Rof. Are you not good ?

(5) chroniclers of that age-) Sir T. Hanmer reads, coroners, by the advice, as Dr. Warburton biots, -of fome agonymous critick.

Us.

Orla. I hope fo.

Rof. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? come, fifter, you Thall be the priest, and marry

Give me your hand, Orlando : what do you say, Sister?

Orla. Pray thee, marry us.
Cel. I cannot say the words.
Rif: You must begin-Will you,

Orlando
Cel. Go to - Will

you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind ?

Orla. I will. Rol Ay, but when? Orla. Why now, as fast as she can marry us. Rof. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for wife.

Orla I take thee Rosalind for wife. Ros. I might ask you for your commiflion, but I do take thee Orlando for my husband : there's a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman's thought run before her actions. Orla. So do all thoughts ; they are wing’d.

Rof. Now tell me, how long would you have her, after you have pofleft her.

Orla. For ever and a day.
Rof. Say a day, without the ever

No, no, Oro lando, men are April when they woo, December when they wed, maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen ; more clamorous than a parrot against rain ; more new-fangled than an ape ; more giddy in my

defires than a mionkey. I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that, when you are ditpos’d to be merry,I will laugh like a lyen, and that when you are inclin'd to sleep (6).

1

(6) and when you are inclin'd to sleep.] We should read, to WEEP

WARBURTON. I know not why we should read to weep. I believe most men would be more an ry to have their firep hindered ihen their grief interrupted.

Orla.