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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. Come, to our flock.
[Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA, and Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd! 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. 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 neigh
bourly? Sil. I would have you. Phe.
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 einploy thee too : But do not look for further recompense, Than thine own gladness that thou art employd.
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,
Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him;
. He is not tall ; yet for his years he's tall : His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well ; There was a pretty redress in his lip; · A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek ;' 'twas just the differ
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask.
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet
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.
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. Jaq. 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 modern 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 sol
dier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice;' 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 humorous sadness.
Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see 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.
Enter ORLANDO. 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 verse.
[Exit. 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
have swam in a gondola.-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 jointure, 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 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
Rosalind. Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer 3 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