Jaq. Yes, I have gain'd my experience. Enter ORLANDO. Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too. Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. [Exit. Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.-Why, how now, Orlando! Where have you been all this while? You a lover?-An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole. Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight; I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. Orl. Of a snail? Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head; a better jointure I think, than you can make a woman: besides, he brings his destiny with him. Orl. What's that? Ros. Why, horns; which 'such as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for: but he comes arm'd in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife. Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. Ros. And I am your Rosalind. Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer+ than you. Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent: Undervalue. + Complexion. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind? Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke. Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us!) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. Orl. How if the kiss be denied? Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Orl. What, of my suit? Ros. Not of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. Ros. Well, in her person, I'say-I will not have you. Orl. Then in mine own person, I die. Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love cause. Troilus had his brains dash'd out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before; and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turu'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd, and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was-Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: but come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Ort. Then love me, Rosalind. Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, and all. Orl. And wilt thou have me? stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. man Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say,-Wit, whither wilt? Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? Ros. 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 occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool. Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thee again. Ros. 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'clock is your hour? Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty 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 pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise. Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind :-So, adieu. Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: Adieu! [Exit Orlando. Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate; we must 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 didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceived 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 go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep. [Exeunt. SCENE II-Another part of the Forest. Enter JAQUES and LORDS, in the Habit of Foresters. Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer? 1 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, forester, for this purpose? 2 Lord. Yes, Sir. Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. SONG. 1. What shall he have, that kill'd the deer? 2. His leather skin and horns to wear. 1. Then sing him home: Take thou no scorn, to wear the horn;) The rest shall It was a crest ere thou wast born. All. 1. Thy father's father wore it; SCENE III.-The Forest. bear this bur den. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. [Exeunt. Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock ? and here much Orlando! 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: [Giving a Letter. * Melancholy. |