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If you do forrow at my grief in love,
By giving love, your forrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou hast my love ; is not that neighbourly?
Syl. I would have you.

Phe. Why that were covetousness.
Sylvius, the time was that I hated thee;

yet it is not that I bear thee love;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
I will endure; and I'll employ thee too :
But do not look for further recompence,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ’d.

Syl. So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.

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

" 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;
The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and pasling ihort.
Go with me, Sylvius.


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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


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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


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Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker ;

and my

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

Rosalind ?
Orla. I take some joy to say you are ;

because I would be talking of her.

R. Well, in her perfon, I say, I will not have you.
Oila. Then in mine own person I die.

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. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
Orla. And wilt thou have me?
Rof. Ay, and twenty fuch.
Orla. What fay'st thou ?
Rof. Are you not good ?
Orla. I hope so.

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.
Cel. I cannot say the words.
Rof. You must begin, Will you, Orlando-

Gel. Go to; will you, Orlando, have to wife this
Rosalind ?

Orla. I will.
Rof. Ay, but when ?
Orla. Why now, as fast as she can marry us.
Rof. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for

Orla. I take thee Rosalind for wife.
Rof. I might ask 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.

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


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