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If you do forrow at my grief in love,
Phe. Thou hast my love ; is not that neighbourly?
Phe. Why that were covetousness.
yet it is not that I bear thee love;
Syl. So holy and so perfect is my love,
Pbe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere
Syl. Not very well, but I have met him oft; [while ! And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old Carlot once was master of.
Phe. “ Think not I love him, tho' I ask for him; " 'Tis but a peevith boy, yet he talks well. “ But what care I for words ? yet words do well, “ When he that speaks them, pleases those that hear. “ It is a pretty youth, not very pretty; “ But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes
" him. " He'll make a proper man ; the best thing in him • Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue “ Did make offence, his eye did heal it up : - He is not very tall, yet
for his years
he's tall; “ His leg is but so so, and yet ’tis well ; “ There was a pretty redness in his lip, " A little riper, and more lusty red, “ Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the diffe
“ Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. " There be some women, Sylvius, had they mark'd him “ In parcels as I did, would have gone near Vol. II.
" 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; 's For what had he to do to chide at me ? " He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black; “ And, now I am remembred, ícorn'd at me. “ I marvel why I ansier'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: wiit thou, Sylvius?
S:l. Phebe, with all my heart.
Phe. I'll write it straight;
Continues in the foreft.
Enter Rofalind, Celia, and Jaques. Jaq. Pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better ac
quainted with thee. Rof. They say you are a meiancholy fellow.
Jaq. 1 am so; I do love it better than laughing. Ref. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows ; and betray themselves to every modern cenfure, worfe than drunkards.
Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be fad, and fay nothing. Rof. Why then, 'lis good to be a post.
jag. I have neither the scholar's mclancholy, which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; ror the courtiers, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the hwyer's, which is politic; for 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 objeets, and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous fadness,
R. A traveller! by my faith, you have great reason to be fad; I fear you have sold your own lands to see
other mens ; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich
hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gain’d me experience.
Enter Orlando. Rof. And your experience makes you fad : I hadrather have a foci to make me merry, than experience to make me fad, and to travel for it too. Orla. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
, Jaq. Nay, then God b'w'y you, and you talk in blank verse.
[Exit. S C Ε Ν Ε II. Rof. “ Farewel, Monfieur Traveller; look you lisp, " and wear itrange fuits ; disable all the benefits of your own country ; be out of love with
nativity, and almost chide God for making you that
countenance you are; or I will scarce think you “ have twam in a gondola. Why, how now, Orlando, “ where have you been all this while ? You a lover ?
serve me such another trick, never come in my fight more.
Orla. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
RS. “ Break an hour's promise in love ! he that will “ divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break “ but à part of the thousandth part of a minu in the " affairs of love, it may be faid of him, that Cupid “ hath clapt him o'th' shoulder, but I'll warrant him “ heart-whole.
Orla. Pardon dear Rosalind.
Rof. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my fight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. Orla. Of a snail ?
Rof. “ Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, “ he carries his house on his head: a better jointure, “ I think, than you make a woman. Besides, he brings “ his deitiny with him.
Orla. What's that?
“ Why, horns; which such 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. LI 2
Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker ;
Rosalind is virtuous.
Rof. And I am your Rosalind.
Cel. It pleases 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 holiday humour, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rofalind?
Orla. I would kiss before I spoke.
Rof. Nay, you were better speak first; 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 spit; and for lovers lacking, God warn us, matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
Orle. How if the kiss be denied ?
Rof. Then she puts you to intreaty, and there begins new matter.
Orla. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress ?
Rof. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
Orla. What, of fuit ?
because I would be talking of her.
R. Well, in her perfon, I say, I will not have you.
Rof. 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 person, 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, though Hero had turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummernight; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash in the Helleipont, and being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was, - Hero, of Seitos. But these are all Iyes; men
have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Orla. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for I protest her frown might kill me.
Rof. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: but come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on ditpolition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it.
Orla. Then love me, Rosalind.
Rof. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, filter, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, fifter ?
Orla. Pray thee, marry us.
Gel. Go to; will you, Orlando, have to wife this
Orla. I will.
Orla. I take thee Rosalind for wife.
Orla. So do all thoughts ; they are wing’d.
Ros. Now tell me, how long would you have her, after you have possess'd her ?
Orla. For ever and a day.
Ros. “Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Or• lando: 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-pidgeon