1

how parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Anfwer me in one word.

Cel. You muft borrow me Garagantua's mouth first ; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's fize : to fay Ay and No to thefe particulars, is more than to anfwer in a catechifm.

Rof. But doth he know that I am in this foreft, 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 refolve the propofitions of a lover: but take a tafte of my finding him, and relish it with good obfervance. 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 fuch fruit.

Cel. Give me audience, good Madam.

Rof. Proceed.

Cel. There lay he ftretch'd along like a wounded knight.

Rof. Though it be pity to fee fuch a fight, it well becomes the ground.

Cel. Cry, Holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets unfeasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. Rof. Oh, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. I would fing my fong without a burthen; thou bring'ft me out of tune.

Rof. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I muft fpeak. Sweet, fay on,

SCENE VII. Enter Orlando and Jaques.

Cel. You bring me out.

Ref. 'Tis he; flink by,

Soft, comes he not here ? and note him.

[Cel. and Rof, retire. "I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myfelf alone.

Faq.

Orla. "And fo had I; but yet, for fashion fake, I
thank you too for your fociety.

Faq. "God b'w' you; let's meet as little as we can.
Orla. "I do defire we may be better strangers.

Faq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-fongs in their barks,

Orla. "I pray you, mar no more of my verfes with reading them ill-favouredly."

Jaq. Rofalind, is your love's name?

Orla. Yes, juft.

Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orla. There was no thought of pleafing you when fhe was chriften'd.

Jaq. What ftature is fhe of?

Orla. Juft as high as my heart.

Jaq. You are full of pretty anfwers; have you not been acquainted with goldfmiths wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

Orla. Not fo but I anfwer you right painted cloth, from whence you have ftudied your questions.

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 mifery.

Orla. I will chide no breather in the world but myfelf, against whom I know most faults.

Jaq. The worft fault you have, is to be in love. Orla. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your beft virtue; I am weary of you.

Jaq. By my troth, I was feeking for a fool when I found you.

Orla. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you fhall fee him.

Jaq. There fhall I fee mine own figure.

Orla. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher. Jaq. I'll ftay no longer with you; farewel, good Signior Love!

[Exit.

Orla. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monfieur Melancholy! [Cel. and Rof, come forward. Rof. I will fpeak to him like a fawcy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forefter ?

Orla. Very well; what would you?

Rof. I pray you, what is 't a clock ?

Orla. You should ask me, What time o' day? there's no clock in the foreft.

Rof. Then there is no true lover in the foreft; 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 fwift foot of Time? had not that been as proper ?

Rof. By no means, Sir.

Time travels in divers paces

with divers perfons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time gallops

withal, who Time trots

withal, and who he ftands 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 fe'nnight, Time's pace is fo hard, that it seems the length of seven years. Orla. Who ambles Time withal?

Rof. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout: for the one fleeps easily, becaufe he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking the burthen of lean and wafteful learning, the other knowing no burthen of heavy tedious penury. Thefe Time ambles withal.

Orla. Whom doth he gallop withal ?

Rof. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as foftly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too foon there.

Orla, Whom ftays it ftill withal ?

Rof. With lawyers in the vacation; for they fleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves.

Orla. Where dwell you, pretty youth?

Rof. With this fhepherdefs, my fifter; here in the kirts of the foreft, like fringe upon a petticoat. Qrla. Are you native of this place?

Pof. As the coney, that you fee dwell where she is kindled.

Orla. Your accent is fomething 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 fpeak, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew courtfhip too well; for there he fell in love. I have heard

him read many lectures againft it; I thank God I am not a woman, to be touch'd with fo many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole fex 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 feeming monftrous, till his fellow fault came to match it.

Orla. I pr'ythee, recount fome of them.

Ref. No; I will not caft away my phyfic, but on thofe that are fick. There is a man haunts the foreft, that abufes our young plants with carving Rofalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forfooth, deifying the name of Rofalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him fome good counfel, for he feems to have the quotidian of love upon him.

Orla. I am he that is fo love-fhak'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 rufhes I am fure you are not prifoner.

Orla. What were his marks ?

Rof. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and funken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, 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 hofe fhould be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your fleeve unbutton'd, your fhoe untied, and every thing about you demonftrating a careless defolation but you are no fuch man; you are rather, point-device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself, than feeming the lover of any other.

::

Orla. Fair youth, I would, I could make thee believe I love.

Rof. Me believe it? you may as foon make her that you love, believe it; which, I warrant, the is apter to do, than to confefs fhe does; that is one of the points in the which women ftill give the lye to their confciences. But, in good footh, are you he that hangs the verfes on the trees, wherein Rofalind is fo admired?

Orla. I fwear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rofalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.

Rof. But are you fo much in love as your rhimes Speak?

Orla. Neither rhime nor reafon can exprefs how much.

Rof. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deferves as well a dark house and a whip, as madmen do and the reason why they are not fo punish'd and cured, is, that the lunacy is fo 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 fet him every day to Woo me. At which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantaftical, apifh, fhallow, inconftant, full of tears, full of fmiles; for every passion fomething, and for no paffion 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 forfwear him; now weep for him, then fpit at him; that I drave my fuitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour of madness; which was,

:

to forfwear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monaftic and thus I cur'd him, and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clear as a found fheep's heart, that there fhall 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 Rofalind, 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.

Rof. Go with me to it, and I will fhew it you; and, by the way, you fhall tell me where in the foreft you live. Will you go ?

Orla. With all my heart, good youth.

Rof. Nay, nay, you must call me Rofalind. Come, fifter, will you go?

[Exeunt.