If you do forrow at my grief in love, By giving love, your forrow and my grief Were both extermin'd. Phe. Thou haft my love; is not that neighbourly? Syl. I would have you. Phe. Why that were covetoufnefs. Sylvius, the time was that I hated thee; And yet it is not that I bear thee love; But fince that thou canft talk of love fo well, That I fhall think it a most plenteous crop That the main harvest reaps: loofe now and then Phe. 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 mafter of. 1 Phe. "Think not I love him, tho' I ask for him; "'Tis but a peevish 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, fure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes " him. He'll make a proper man; the best thing in him "Is his complexion; and fafter 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 fo fo, and yet 'tis well; "There was a pretty rednefs in his lip, "A little riper, and more lufty red, "Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas juft the diffe 66 rence "Betwixt the conftant red and mingled damask. "There be fome women, Sylvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near VOL. II. L1 "To "To fall in love with him; but, for my part, "I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet "I have more caufe 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; "But that's all one, omittance is no quittance. The matter's in my head, and in my heart, ACT IV. [Exeunt. SCENE I. Continues in the foreft. Enter Rofalind, Celia, and Jaques. Jaq. Pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acI quainted with thee. Rof. They fay you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. I am fo; I do love it better than laughing. Ref. Thofe that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows; and betray themfelves to every modern cenfure, worfe than drunkards. Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be fad, and fay nothing. Rof. Why then, 'tis good to be a poft. Jaq. I have neither the fcholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; 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. : Ref. A traveller! by my faith, you have great reafon to be fad; I fear you have fold your own lands to fee other other mens; then, to have feen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes, and poor hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gain'd me experience. Enter Orlando. Rof. And your experience makes you fad: I hadrather 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, and you talk in blank verfe. SCENE II. [Exit. Rof." Farewel, Monfieur Traveller; look you lifp, " and wear frange fuits; difable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almoft chide God for making you that "countenance you are; or I will fcarce think you "have fwam in a gondola. Why, how now, Orlando, "where have you been all this while? You a lover ?64 an you ferve me fuch another trick, never come in my fight more. Orla. My fair Rofalind, 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. Rof. 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? 66 Rof. Ay, of a fnail; for though 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? 66 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. LI 2 Orla. Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rofalind is virtuous. 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 holiday 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 spoke. Rof. Nay, you were better speak firft; and when you were gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occafion to kifs. 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 fhe puts you to intreaty, 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. Rof. Well, in her perfon, I fay, I will not have you. Orla. Then in mine own perfon 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 perfon, videlicet, in a love-caufe. Troilus had his brains dafh'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 midfummernight; 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 Seftos. But thefe are all lyes; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Orla. I would not have my right Rofalind 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 Rofalind in a more coming-on difpofition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Orla. Then love me, Rofalind. Rof. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. Rof. Ay, and twenty fuch. Rof. Why then, can one defire too much of a good thing? Come, fifter, you fhall be the prieft, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, fifter? Orla. Pray thee, marry us. -Will you, Orlando Gel. Go to; will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rofalind? Orla. I will. Rof. Ay, but when ? Orla. Why now, as faft as she can marry us. Rof. Then you must fay, I take thee Rofalind for wife. 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. Rof. Now tell me, how long would you have her, after you have possess'd her? Orla. For ever and a day. 6 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 fky changes when they are wives: I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pidgeon |