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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.
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.
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.
Jaq. W HLord. Sir, it was 1,
bear this Bur
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
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.
Rof. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents;
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,
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet ;
writes. [Reads.) Art thou God to Shepherd turn'd,
That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?
Sil. Call you this railing?
Warr At thou with a woman's heart?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
if the scorn of your bright eyne
I did love;
Will the faithful offer take
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:
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
's none within.