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Orla.I pray you!, mar no more

of
my

verses with “ reading them ill-favouredly.”

Jaq. Rosalind, is your love's name?
Oria. Yes, juít.
Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orla. There was no thought of pleasing you when
The was christen’d.

Jaq. What stature is she of?
Orla. Just as high as my heart.

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 and 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 moit faults.

Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love.
Orla. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your

best vir
I am weary of you.
Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I

me,

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tue ;

found you.

Orla. He is drown'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 !

[Exit.
S CE N E VIII.
Orla. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good
Monsieur Melancholy ! [Cel.and Rof.come forward.

Rof. I will speak to him like a fawcy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester?

Orla. Very well; what would you ?
Ref. I pray you, what is't a clock?

Orla. You thould ask me, What time o'day? there's no clock in the foreit.

Ros.

Rof. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else, sighing every minute, and groning every hour, would detect 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 be: tween the contract of her marriage and the day it is folemniz'd: if the interim be but a fe'nnight, Time's pace is so hard, that it seem's the length of seven years.

Orla Who ambles Time withal ?

Rof. With a priest that lacks Latin, 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 burthen of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing na burthen of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles withal.

Orla. Whom doth he gallop withal ?

Ros. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as foftly 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 shepherders, my fifter; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.

Orla. Are you native of this place?

Rof. As the coney, that you see dwell where she is kindled.

Orla. 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 me to speak, who was in his youth an inland 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 ?

Rof. 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 fome of them.

Rof. No; I will not cast away my physic, brit on those that are fick. There is a man haunts the foreli, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.

Orla. I am he that is so love-faak d; I pray you, tell me your remedy.

Rof. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.

Orla. What were his marks?

Rof. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not ;-but I pardon you for that, for fimply your having in beard is a younger brother’s revenue : --then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your ihoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless defolation but you are no such man ; you are rather, point-uevice in your accoutrements, as loving youriell, than leeming the lover of

any

other. Orlu Fair youth, I would I could make thee ben lieve i love.

Rof. Me believe it? you may as foon make her that you love, believe it; which, I warrant, she is aptcr to do, than to confeis ine does; that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. but, in good footh, are you he that hangs thie rorles ca the trees, wherein Rosalind is io aumised? VOL. 1. Kk

Orla.

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Orla. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.

Rof, but are you so much in love as your rhimes fpeak?

Orla. Neither rhime nor reason can express how much,

Rof. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. Orla. Did you ever cure any

fo? Rof. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to ima gine me his love, his mistress: and I set him every day to woo me. At which time would I, being but a moonifh youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for

eve ry passion fomething, and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now lothe him ; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my fuitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a rook merely monastic: and thus I cur'd him, and this way will I take upon me to walh your liver as clear as a íound sheep's heart, that there {hall not be one spot of love in it. 4. Orla. I would not be cur’d, youth.

Rof. I would cure you if you would but call ine Rosalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me.

Orla. Now, by the faith of my love I will; tell me where it is,

Rof. Go with me to it, and I will shew it you; and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest

you dive. Will you go?

Orla. With all my heart, good youth. Ref. Nay, nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, fifter, will you go?

[Exeunt. $CENG

nor

SCENE IX. Enter Clown, Audrey, and Jaques,

Clo. Come apace, good Audrey, I will fetch up your goats, Audrey; and now, Audrey, am I the man yet? doth my fimple feature content you ?

Aud. Your features, Lord warrant us! what features?

Clo. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet honest Ovid was among the Goths.

Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch'd house.

Clo. When a man's verses cannot be understood, a man's good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding; it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room: truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.

Aud. I do not know what poetical is; is it honest in deed and word ? is it a true thing?

Clo. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry; and what they fwear in poetry, may be said, as lovers, they do feign.

Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had made me poetical?

Clo. I do, truly; for thou swear'st to me, thou art honest:

: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.

Aud. Would you not have me honest ?

Glo. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honesty coupled to beauty, is, to have honey a sauce to sugar.

fag. A material fool!
Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray

the gods make me honest!

Clo. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul flut, were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

Aud. I am not a flut, though I thank the gods I am foul.

Clo. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness ! fluttishness may come hereafter! but be that as it may be, I will marry thee ; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. Kk 2

Jaq.

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