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There be fome women, Silvius, had they mark'd him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but, for my part,
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him;
For what had he to do to chide at me ?

He faid, mine eyes were black, and my hair black :
And, now I am remembred, scorn'd at me;
I marvel, why I anfwer'd not again;

But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it; wilt thou, Silvius 2
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.
Phe. I'll write it straight;

The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and paffing short:
Go with me, Silvius.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE, continues in the FOREST.

Enter Rofalind, Celia, and Jaques.

JAQUES.

Pythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted

with

Rof. They fay, you are a melancholy fellow.

Jaq. I am fo; I do love it better than laughing. Rof. Thofe, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern cenfure, worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be fad, and fay nothing.
Ref. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
0.4

Jaq.

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the mufician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all thefe; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many fimples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a moft humorous fadness.

J

Rof. A traveller! by my faith, you have great reafon to be fad I fear, you have fold your own lands, to fee other mens: then, to have feen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands, pe Jaq, Yes, I have gain'd me experience.

Eater Orlando.

Rof, And your experience makes you fad; I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make me fad, and to travel for it too.

Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rofalind! Jaq. Nay, then God b'w'y you, an you talk in blank verfe. [Exit.

Rof. Farewel, monfieur traveller; look, you lifp, and wear ftrange fuits; difable 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 fearce think, you have fwam in a Gondola. Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all this while? You a lover? an you ferve me fuch another trick, never come in my fight more.

Orla. My fair Rojalind, I come within an hour of my Promife.

Ref. Break an hour's promife in love! he that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thoufandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be faid of him, that Cupid hath clapt him o'th' fhoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole.

Orla. Pardon me, dear Rofalind...

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Ro. Nay, an you be fo tardy, come no more in my fight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orla. Of a fnail ?

Rof. Ay, of a fnail; for tho' he comes flowly, he carries his houfe on his head: a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman; befides, he brings his destiny with him. .

Orla. What's that?

Rof. Why, horns; which fuch as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the flander of his wife.

Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rofalind is virtuous.

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Rof. And I am your Rofalind.

Cel. It pleafes him to call you fo; but he hath a Rofalind of a better leer than you.

Rof. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holyday humour, and like enough to confent: what would you fay to me now, an I were your very, very Rofalind?

Orla. I would kifs, before I fpoke.

Rof. Nay, you were better speak firft, and when you were gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occafion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will fpit; and for lovers lacking, God warn us, matter, the cleanlieft fhift is to kifs.

Orla. How if the kifs be denied?

Rof. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins

new matter.

Orla. Who could be out, being before his beloved miftrefs?

Rof. Marry, that fhould you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Orla. What, of my fuit?

Rof. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your fuit. Am not I your Rofalind?

Orla. I take fome joy to fay, you are; because I would be talking of her.

Raf. Well, in her perfon, I fay, I will not have you.
Orla. Then in mine own perfon I die.

05

Ref.

Ref. No, faith, die by attorney; the poor world is almost fix thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own perfon, videlicet, in a love-cause Troilus had his brains dath'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 liv'd many a fair year, tho' Hero had turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midfummer. night ; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash in the Hellefpont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was → Hero of Seftos. But thefe are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

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Orla. I would not have my right Rofalind of this mind; for, I proteft, her frown might kill me.

Ref. By this hand, it will not kill a fly; but come ; now I will be your Rofalind in a more coming-on difpdfition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it,

Orla. Then love me, Rofalind.

Ref. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all. Orla. And wilt thou have me?

Ref. Ay, and twenty fuch.

Orla. What fay'st thou?
Rof. Are you not good?
Orla. I hope fo.

Rof. Why then, can one defire too much of a good thing? come, fifter, you fhall be the priest, and marry Give me your hand, Orlando: what do you fay,

3.

Sifter?

Orla. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot fay the words.

Rof. You must begin,- -Will you, Orlando

Cel. Go to; will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rofalind?

Orla. I will.

Rof. Ay, but when?

Oria. Why now, as faft as fhe can marry us.

Rof. Then you must fay, I take thee Rafalind for wife.

Orla.

Orla. I take thee Rofalind for wife.

Rof. I might afk you for your commiffion, but I do take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman's thought runs before her actions.

Orla. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.

Raf. Now tell me, how long would you have her, after you have poffeft her.

Orla. For ever and a day.

Rof. Say a day, without the ever: no, no, Orlando, ·men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives; I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my defires than a monkey; I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain; and I will do that, when you are difpos'd to be merry ; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when you are inclin'd to fleep.

Orla. But will my Rofalind do fo?
Rof. By my life, fhe will do as I do.
Orla. O, but she is wife.

Rof. Or elfe fhe could not have the wit to do this; the wifer, the waywarder: make the doors faft upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the cafement; fhut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; ftop that, it will fly with the fmoak out at the chimney.

Orla. A man that had a wife with fuch a wit, he might fay, 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 fay fhe came to feek you there: you fhall never take her without her anfwer, unless you take her without her tongue. O that woman, that cannot make her fault her husband's occafion, let her never nurfe her child herself, for fhe will breed it like a fool!

Orla. For these two hours, Rofalind, I will leave thee.

R!

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