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how parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.
Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's fize : to say Ay and No to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.
Rof. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel ? looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled ?
Gel. It is as easy to count atoms, as to resolve the propositions of a lover: but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.
Rof. It may well be call’d Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good Madam.
Gel. There lay he stretch'd along like a wounded knight.
Rof. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
Cel. Cry, Holla! to thy tongue, I prythee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.
Rof. Oh, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart.
Cel. I would sing my song without a burthen; thoa bring'st me out of tune.
Rof. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
SCENE VII. Enter Orlando and Jaques. Gel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here? Ref. 'Tis he, link by, and note him.
[Cel, and Ros, retire. Faq. “ I thank you for your company; but, good 66 faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
Orla. “ And so had I ; but yet, for fashion fake, I so thank you too for
your society. Jaq.“ God b’w’you ; let's meet as little as we can. Orla. “ I do desire we may be better strangers.
faq. “ I pray you, mar no more trees with writing F love-fongs in their barks,
Orla. “ I pray you, mar no more of my verses with " reading them ill-favouredly.”
Jaq. Rosalind, is your love's name?
Orla. There was no thought of pleasing you when The was christen'd.
Jaq. What stature is the of?
Jaq. You are full of pretty answers ; have been acquainted with goldsmiths wives, and conn'd them out of rings ?
Orla. Not so: but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have itudied your queitions.
Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you fit down with me, and we two will rail against our mistress, the world, and all our misery.
Orla. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.
Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love.
Orla. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue; I am weary of you.
Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I
Orla. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.
faq. There shall I see mine own figure.
Jaq. I'll stay no longer with you; farewel, good Signior Love!
SC E N E VIII. Orla. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy! [Cel. and Rof. come forward.
Rof. I will speak to him like a fawcy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester?
Orla. Very well ; what would you ?
Orla. You should ask me, What time o' day ? there's no clock in the forest.
Rof. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else, fighing every minute, and groning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of Time, as well as a clock.
Orla. And why not the swift foot of Time ? had not that been as proper ?
Rof. By no means, Sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands ftill withal.
Orla. I pr’ythee, whom doth he trot withal ?
Rof. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is folemniz'd: if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard, that it seems the length of seven years.
Orla. Whọ ambles Time withal ?
Rof. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout : for the one Neeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pa the
one lacking the burthen of Jean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burthen of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles withal.
Orla. Whom doth he gallop withal ?
Rof. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
Orla, Whom stays it still withal ?
Rof. With lawyers in the vacation ; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves.
Orla. Where dwell you, pretty youth ?
Rof. With this fhepherders, my sister.; here in the kirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
Orla. Are you native of this place ?
Pof. As the coney, that you see dwell where she is kindled.
Orla. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in fo removed a dwelling.
Rof. I have been told fo of many; but, indeed, an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew courtship too well; for there he fell in love. I have heard
him read many lectures against it; I thank God I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.
Orla. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women ?
Rof. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as half-pence are ; every one fault seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it.
Orla. I pr’ythee, recount some of them.
Ref. No; I will not cast away my physic, but on those that are sick. There is a man liaunts the foreft, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks ; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies on brambles ; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.
Orla. I am he that is so love-thak’d; I pray you, tell me your remedy.
Rof. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rulhes I am sure you are not prisoner.
Orla. What were his marks ?
have not; a blue eye and funken, which you have not; an unquestionable fpirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for fimply your Having in beard is a younger brother's revenue ;
-then your hose should be ungarter’d, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe «untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a carcless defolation : but you are no such man ; you are rather, point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any other.
Orla. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
Rof. Me believe it? you may as soon make her that you love, believe it ; which, I warrant, the is apter to do, than to confess she does; that is one of the points in the which women still give the lye to their consciences. But, in good footh, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rofalind is so admired?
Orla. I swcar to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
Rof. But are you so much in love as your rhimes speak?
Orla. Neither rhime nor reason can express how much.
Rof. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip, as madmen do : and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profefs curing it by counsel, Orla. Did you ever cure any
fo? Rof. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress : and I set him every day
At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles ; for every passion fomething, and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour ; would now like him, now lothe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic : and thus I cur'd him, and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clear as a found sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't.
Orla. I would not be cur’d, youth.
Rof. I would cure you if you would but call me RoSalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me.
Orla. Now, by the faith of my love, I will ; tell me where it is.
Roj. Go with me to it, and I will shew it you; and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?
Orla. With all my heart, good youth.
Rof. Nay, nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, fifter, will you go?