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Cel. Trow you, who hath done this?
Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour?
Rof. I pr’ythee, who?
Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains
be removed with eartbquakes, and so encounter.
Rof. Nay, but who is it?
Ros. Nay, I pr’ythee now, with moft petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping
Rof. *Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea off discovery. I pr’ythee, tell me, who is it; quickly, and speak apace; I would thou could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour
this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. . I pr’ythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros. Is he of God's making?what manner of man? is his head worth a hat? or his chin worth a beard?
Cel. Nay, he hath bnt a little beard.
Rof. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful; let me stay the growih of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant.
* Good my complexion!] This is a Mode of Expreffion, Mr. Theobald säys, which he cannot reconcile to Common Senfe. Like enough : and so 100 the Oxford Editior. But the Meaning is, Hold good my complexior, i. e, let me not blush.
Rof. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak, sad brow, and true maid.
Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Rof. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? what did he, when thou saw ft him? what said he ? how look'd he? wherein went he ? what inakes he here? did he ask for me? where remains he? 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 firft; '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 doch he know that I am in this Forest, and in man's apparel ? looks he as freshly as he did the day he wreitled ?
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.
Cel. There lay he stretch'd along like a wounded Knight.
Roj. Tho' 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 burden; thou bring'st me out of tune.
Rof. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak ; Sweet, say on.
S G E N E VII.
Cal. Y here?
Enter Orlando and Jaques.
Rof. 'Tis he; flink by, and note him.
(Cel. and Ros. retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
Orla. And so had I; but yet for fashion fake, I thank you too for your society.
Jaq. God b'xx' you, let's meet as little as we can, Orla. I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq. I pray you, marr no, more trees with writing love-fongs in their barks. Orla. I
pray you, marr 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 she was christen'd.
Jaq. What stature is she of ?
Jaq. You are full of pretty answers ; have you not 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 studied your questions.
Jaq. You have a nimble wit;I think, it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit 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 myfelf, 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 sool, when I found
you. Orla. He is droin'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.
Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure. Orla. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher. Jaq. I'll stay no longer with you; farewel, good Signior love!
S CE N E VIII.
Orla. I Am glad of your departure; adicu, good
Monlieur melancholy! Cel. and Ros. con.e forward. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him: do you hear, forefter?
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, sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would dete& 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 still 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 fennight, iime's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years. Orla. Who ambles time withal ?
Rof. With a priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden 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 foon 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 shepherdess, my Gister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
Orla. Are you native of this place?
Rof. As the cony, that you see dwell where she is kindled.
Orlą. Your accent is something finer, than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling.
Rof. I have been told fo of many; but, indeed, an old religious Uncle of mine taught ine to speak, who was in his youth an in-land 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 ?
Ros. 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.