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Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this; the wiser, the waywarder: make the doors fast upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, it will fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

Orla. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say, Wit, whither wilt?

Rof.Nay, you might keep that check for it, 'till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

Orla. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?

Rof. Marry, to say she came to seek you there: you shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O that woman, that cannot make her fault her husband's occafion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool?

Orla. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. Rof. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

Orla. I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thee again.

Rof. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove, my

friends told me as much, and I thought no less ; that flattering tongue of yours won me; 'tis but one cast away, and so come death : two o'th' clock is your hour!

Orla. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

of. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all


oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most * atheistical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out the gross band of the unfaithful; therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.

* I will think you the most heti break-promise,] We should read, atheistical break-promise. His Answer confirms it, that he would keep his Promise with no less Religion, than----]


Orla. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind; fo adieu.

Ros. Well, time is the old Justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try. Adieu! (Exit. Orla.

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Cel. O U have simply misus'd our sex in your

love-prate: we muft have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to her own nest.

Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didit know how many fathom deep I am in love; but it cannot be founded: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.

Cel. O rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in it, it runs out.

Rof. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's

eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love; I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando; I'll


find sha'dow, and figh 'till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep.

Enter Jaques, Lords and Foresters.
HICH is he that kill'd the deer?

Lord. Sir, it was I. Jaq. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Roman Conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory; have you no Song, Forefter, for this purpose ?

For. Yes, Sir.

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.

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Jaq. W HLord. Sir, it was 1,

Music, Song.
What shall he have, that kill'd the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear ;
Then sing him home :-take Thou no Scorn
To wear the horn, the horn, the horn: The rest shall
It was a creft, ere thou wast born.

bear this Bur

Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it,
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

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Ros. H

Enter Rosalind and Celia.
O W say you now, is it not past two o'clock?

I wonder much, Orlando is not here.. Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and

arrows, and is

gone forth to sleep: look, who comes here.

Enter Silvius.
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth,
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this :
I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltless messenger.

Rof. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all.
She says, I am not fair; that I lack manners;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me
Were man as rare as phonix: 'odds


Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.
Why writes she fo to me? well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents;
Phebe did write it.


Rof. Come, come, you're a fool, And turn'd into th' extremity of love. I saw her hand, she has a leathern hand, A free-stone-colour'd hand; I verily did think, That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; She has a huswife's hand, but that's no matter; I say, she never did invent this letter; This is a man's invention, and his hand.

Sil. Sure, it is hers.

Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel ftile,
A file for challengers; why she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian; woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant rude invention;
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance; will you hear the letter?

Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet ;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Rof. She Phebe's me; mark, how the tyrant

writes. [Reads.) Art thou God to Shepherd turn'd,

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?
Can a woman rail thus ?

Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros. [Reads.] Why, thy Godhead laid apart,

Warr At thou with a woman's heart?
Did you ever hear such railing?

Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me, a beast!

if the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me, what strange offe&t
Would they work in mild asped?


I did love;
How then might your prayers move?
He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me;
And by him feal up thy mind,
Whether that thy Youth and Kind

Will the faithful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make;
Or elfe by him my love deny,
And then rui ftudy how to die.

Sil. Call you this chiding? Cel. Alas, poor shepherd ! Rof: Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no pity : wilt thou love such a woman? what, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee? not to be endured! Well, go your way to her ; (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,) and say this to her; that if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company:

[Exit Sil.

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Enter Oliver.
OOD-morrow, fair ones: pray you,


you know, Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands A sheep-cote fenc°d about with olive-trees ? Cel. 'West of this place, down in the neighbour

The rank of oliers, by the murmuring stream,
Left on your right-hand, brings you to the place ;
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,

's none within.
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description,
Such garments, and such years: the boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe Sister : but the wonian low,
And browner than her brother. Are not you
The owner of the house, I did enquire for?


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