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Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you chide a year together; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo.

Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger : If it be so, as

ast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words.- Why look you so upon me?

Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Ros. I
pray you,

do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine :
Besides, I like you not : If you will know my house,
'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by :-
Will you go, sister?-Shepherd, ply her hard :-
Come, sister :-Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud ; though all the world could see,
None could be so abus’d in sight as he.d
Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt ROSALIND, Celia, and Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd !e now I find thy saw of might; Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?

Sil. Sweet Phebe,

Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be;
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love, your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermin'd.

Phe. Thou hast my love; Is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would have you.

Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;
And 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 farther recompense,


though all the world could see, None could be so abus’d in sight as he.] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he.--Johnson.

e Dead shepherd!] This refers to Marlowe, from whose poem of Hero and Leander the subsequent line is taken.

Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.

Sil. 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. Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me ere

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft;
And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds,
That the old carlotf once was master of.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him ;
'Tis but a peevish boy :8-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 it is 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 difference
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask.
There be some 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 said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black ;


carlot-] i.e. Peasunt, from carl or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage.-Douce.

a peevish boy :] Peevish, in ancient language, signifies weak, silly.

constant red and mingled damask.] The constant is uniform red.-- Mingled damask, the silk of that name, on which, by a various direction of the threads, many lighter shades of the same colour are exhibited.-Steevens.

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And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me;
I marvel, why I answer'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?

Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

I'll write it straight;
The matter's in my head, and in my heart :
I will be bitter with him, and passing short :
Go with me, Silvius.



Scent 1.-The same.

Enter RoSALIND, Celia, and JAQUES.

Jaq. I pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Jag. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.

Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every moderni censure, worse than drunkards.

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice ;k nor the lover's which is all these : but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects : and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me, is a most humourous sadness.

Ros. A traveller ! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands, to see

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modern]—in a sense now disused ; common, trivial, worthless.

which is nice ;] i. e. Silly, trifling.

other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich

eyes and poor hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.


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

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind !
Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank


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Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller : Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable 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 scarce think you have swam in a gondola." [Exit Jaques]—Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while ? You a lover ?-An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clap'd him o'the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight; I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orl. Of a snail?

Ros. Ay; of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head ; a better jointer I think, than you can make a woman: Besides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orl. What's that?
Ros. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be


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disable] i. e. Undervalue.

swam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the seat at the time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes lost their religion.- Johnson.



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beholden to your wives for : but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife.

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. Ros. And I am your

Rosalind. Cel. It pleases him to call you so : but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.

Ros. 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 Rosalind ? Orl. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us!) matter, the cleanest shift is to kiss.

Orl. How, if the kiss be denied ?

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress ? Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress :


I or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. · Orl. What, of my suit?

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

Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. Ros. Well, in her person, I say, I will not have you. ,

Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die.

Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six 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 dashed 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 lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont,

leer~) i. e. Feature, complexion, or colour.


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