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Jaq. Thus it


to sing. Come, more! another stanza! call you them Here was he merry, hearing of a song. stanzas?

Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
Ami. What you will, monsieur Jaques,

We shall have shortly discord in the spheres :
Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe meno Go, seek him; tell him, I would speak with him.
thing. Will you sing?
Ami. More at your reqnest, than to please myself.

Enter Jaques.
Jaq. Well, then, if ever I thank any man, l’il thank 1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach,
you: but that they call compliment, is like the encoun- Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
ter of two dog-apes; and, when a man thanks me That your poor friends must woo your company?
heartily, methinks, I have given him a penny, and he What! you look merrily.
renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you Jaq. A fool, a foo!!--Imet a fool i'the forest,
that will not, hold your tongues.

A motley fool ;-a miserable world !-Ami. Well, I'll end the song.–Sirs, cover the while; As I do live by food, I met a fool; the duke will drink under this tree:- he hath been all Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, this day to look you.

And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is in good set terms, --and yet a motley fool.
too disputable for my company. I think of as many Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he,
matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune!
boast of them. Come, warble, come!

And then he drew a dial from his poke;

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Who doth ambition shun, [All together here. Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:
And loves to live i' the sun,

Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags:
Seeking the food he eats,

'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine;
And pleas'd with what he gets,

And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven;
Come hither, coine hither, come hither!

from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
Here shall he see

And then, from hour to hour, we rot and ros,
No enemy,

And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
But winter and rough weather.

The motley foolthus moral on the time,
Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
yesterday in despite of my invention.

That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
Ami. And I'll sing it.

Aud I did laugh, sans intermission,
goes :

An hour by his dial.- O noble fool!
If it to come to pass,

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
That any man turn ass,

Duke $. What fool is this?
Leaving his wealth and ease,

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One, that hath been a courtier;
A stubborn will to please,

And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
Ducàdme, ducàdme, ducàdme!

They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, -
Here shall he see

Which is as dry as the remainder bisket
Gross fools as he,

After a voyage,

-he hath strange places cramm'd
And if he will come to me.

With observation, the which he vents
Ami. What's that ducàdme?

In mangled forms :-0, that I were a fool!
Jaq.'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I am ambitious for a motley coat.
I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
the first-born of Egypt.

Jaq. It is my only suit;
Ami. And I'll go seek the duke; his banquet is pre- Provided, that you weed your better judgments

[Exeunt severally. Of all opinion that grows rank in them,

Thatlam wise. I must have liberty
SCENE VI.-The same.

Withal, as large a charter as the wind,

To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
Adam. Dear master, I can go no further;0, I die for And they, that are most galled with my folly,
food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. They most must laugh: and why, sir, must they so ?
Farewell, kind master!

The why is plain as way to parish church:
Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little! Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
If this unconth forest yield any think savage, I will ei- Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
ther be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy con- The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd
ceit is nearer death, than thy powers. For my sake, be Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end! I Invest me in my motley; give me leave
will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not To speak my mind, and I will through and through
something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die: but if thou Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Well said ! thou look'st cheerily: and I'll be with thee Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou would'st do.
quickly.—Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but good?
bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
Cheerly, good Adam!

[Exeunt. As sensual, as the brutish sting itself;

And all the embossed sores, and headed evils,
SCENE VII.--The same.

That thou with licence of free foot hast caught,
A table set out. Enter Duke senior, Amiers, Lords, Would’st thou disgorge into the general world.
and others.

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a beast; That can therein tax any private party?
For I can no where find him like a man.

Doth it not flow as hugely, as the sea,
1 Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Till that the very very means do ebb?

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What woman in the city do I name,

They have their exits, and their entrances;
When that I say, The city-woman bears

And one man in his time plays many parts,
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ?

His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour 3 And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
Or what is he of basest function,

And shining morning face, creeping like snail
That says, his bravery is not on my cost,

Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover;
(Thinking that I mean him,) bui therein suits

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
His folly to the mettle of my speech ?

Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Tlien, a soldier,
There then ; how, what then? Let me see, wherein Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Then he hath wrong’d himself; if he be free, Seeking the bubble reputation
Why then, my taxing like a wild-goose flies,

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice;
Unclaim'd of any man.-But who comes here? In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d,

Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn. With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Orl. Forbear, and eat no more!

Full of wise saws and modern instances,
Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet.

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be serv'd. Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
Jag. Of what kind should this cock come of? With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
That in civility throu seem'st so empty ?

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
Orl. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny point And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show

That ends this strange eventful history,
Of smooth civility: yet am siuland bred,

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
He dies, that touches any of this fruit,

Re-enter ORLANDO, with Adam.
Till I and my allairs are answered.

Duke S. Welcome! Set down your venerable burden,
Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, And let him feed !
I must die.

Ort. I thank you most for him.
Duke S. What would you have? your gentleness Adam. So had you need;
shall force,

I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
More than your force move to gentleness.

Duke S. Welcome, fallto: I will not trouble you
Orl. I almost die for food, and let me have it! As yet, to question you about your fortunes :-
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table !|Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing!
Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you;

Amiens sings.
I thought, that all things had been savage here;

And therefore put I on the countenance

Of stern commandment: but whate'er you are,

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
That in this desert inaccessible,

Thou art not so unkind,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,

As man's ingratitude;
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;

Thy tooth is not so keen,
If ever you have look'd on better days;

Because thou art not seen,
If ever been, where bells have knoll'd to church;

Although thy breath be rude.
If ever sat at any good man's feast;

Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! unto the green holly:
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear,

Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly :
And know, what’tis to pity, and be pitied;

Then, heigh, ho, the holly!
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:

This life is most jolly.
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword.

Duke S. True is it, that we have seen better days,

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church,

That dost not bite so nigh,
And sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes

Asbenefits forgot:
of drops, that sacred pity hath engender'd:

Though thou the waters warp,
And therefore sit you down in gentleness,

Thy sting is not so sharp,
And take opon command what help we have,

As friend remember'd not.
That to your wanting may be ministred.

Heigh, ho! sing heigh, ho! etc.
Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while, Duke S. If that you were the good sir Rowland's son,-
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,

As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were;
And give it food. There is an old poor man,

And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Who after me hath many a weary step

Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, –
Limp'd in pure love; titi he be first suffic'd, - Be truly welcome hither! I am the duke,
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, That lov'd your father: the residue of your fortune,
I will not touch a bit.

Go to my cave and tell me.--Good old man,
Duke S. Go find him out,

Thou art right welcome as thy master is :
And we will nothing waste, till you return.

Support him by the arm !--Give me your hand,
Orl. I thank ye; and be bless'd for your good com- and let me all your fortunes understand. (Exeun.

Duke S. Thou seest, we are not all alone unhappy :
This wide and universal theatre

Presents more woeful pageants, than the scene,

SCENE I.- A rooin in the palace.
Wherein we playin.

Enter DukeFrederick,OLIVER, Lords, and Attendants.
Jaq. All the world's a stage,

Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that cannot be: And all the men and women merely players :

But were I not the better part made


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I should not seek an absent argument

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? Cel.
Of iny revenge, thou present. But look to it; and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is;

sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: a better instance,
Seek him with candle; bring him, dead or living, I say; come,
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.
To seek a living in our territory!

Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow,
Thylands, and all things that thou dost call thine, again : a more sounder instance, come.
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands;

Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth, of our sheep ; and would you have us kiss tar? The
Of what we think against thee.

courtier's hands are perfuined with civet. Oli. O, that your highness knew my heart in this! Touch. Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat, in I never lov'd my brother in my life.

respect of a good piece of flesh! Indeed !--Learn of Duhe F. More villain thou. Well, push him out of the wise, and perpend: Civet is of a baser birth, than doors ;

tar: the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the inAndlet my officers of such a nature

stance, shepherd ! Make an extent upon his house and lands!

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.
Do this expediently, and turn him going! [Exeunt. Touch. Wilt thou rest damu'd ? God help thee, shal-

low man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.
SCENE II.- The forest.

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat, get
Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.

that I wear; oweno man hate, envy no man's happi-
Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; glad of other men's good, content with my harm:
And thou, thrice-crowned queen ofnight, survey aud the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze,
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, and my lambs suck.
Thy huntress' name, that my fulllife doth sway. Touch. That is another simple sin in you; to bring
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books,

the ewes and the rams together, and to offer to get And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, your living by the copulation of cattle: to be bawd to That every eye, which in this forest looks,

a bell-wether; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelveShall see thy virtue witness'd every where. month, to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, ont Run, run, Orlando ; carve, on every tree, of all reasonable match. If thou be'st not damu'd for

1 The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she! [Exit. this, the devil himself will have no shepherds ; I canEnter Corinand Touchstone. notsee else, how thou shouldst’scape.

R Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, master Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, my new Touchstone?

mistress's brother. Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a

Enter Rosalind, reading a paper. good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it

Ros. From the east to western Ind, is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a

Nojewel is like Rosalind. vile

very life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me

Her worth, being mounted on the wind, well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.

Through all the world bears Rosalind. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well;

All the pictures, fairest limn'd,

Are buc black to Rosalind. but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee,

face be kept in mind, shepherd ?

But the fair of Rosalind. Cor. No more, but that I know, the more one sickens,

Touch. I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; dinthe worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, the right butter-woman’s rank to market.

ners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is means, and content, is without three good friends.

Ros, Out, fool! That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn:

Touch. For a taste:--that good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great

If a hart do lack a hind, cause of the night, is lack of the sun : that he, that

Let him seek out Rosalind. hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may complain

If the cat will after kind, of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred. Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast

So, be sure, will Rosalind. ever in court, shepherd ?

Winter-gurments must be lin'd,

So must slender Rosalind.
Cor. No, truly
Touch. Then thou art damn’d.

They that reap, must sheaf and bind;

Then to cart with Rosalind.
Cor. Nay, I hope,--
Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an ill-roasted

Sweetest nut hath sowrest rind,

Such a nutis Rosalind.
egg, all on one side.
Cor. For not being at court? Your reason.

Hethat sweetest rose will find,
Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you

Must find love's prick, and Rosalind.
saw'st good manners; if thou never saw'st good man-
ners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wicked-

infect yourself with them? ness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous

Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.

Touch. Truly, the trec yields bad fruit. state, shepherd Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those, that are good with a mediar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the

Ros. I'll graft it with you, and then I shall graftit manners at the court, are as ridiculousiu the country, country: for you'll

be rotten, ere you be half ripe, and as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me, you salute not at the court,

that's the right virtue of the medlar. but you kiss your hands; that courtesy would be un

Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, cleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.

let the forest judge.
Touch. Instance, briefly ; 'come, instance!

Enter Celia, reading a paper.
Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes; and their Ros. Peace!
fells, you kuow, are greasy.

ilere comes my sister, reading; stand aside.



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Cel. Why should this desert silent be?

stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man For it is unpeopled? No;

out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrowTongues I'll hang on every tree,

mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or noue at That shall civil sayings show.

all. I prythee take the cork out of thy mouth, that I Some, how brief the life of man

may drink thy tidings.
Runs his erring pilgrimage;

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.
That the stretching of a spun

Cel. Is he of God's making? What manner of man?
Buckles in his sum of age.

Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard ? Some, of violated vows

Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. "Twixt the souls of friend and friend : Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will be But upon the fairest boughs,

thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou Or at every sentence' end,

delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Will I Rosalinda write;

Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripp'd up the wrestTeaching all that read, to know

ler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant. The quintessence of every sprite

Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak, sad Heuven would in little show.

brow, and true maid.
Therefore heaven nuture charg'd,

Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
That one body should be fillid

Ros. Orlando?
With all graces wide enlarg'd:

Cel. Orlando.
Nature presently distilld

Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with


doublet Helen's cheek, but not her heart:

and hose ?-What did he, when thou saw'st him? What Cleopatra's majesty;

said he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What Atalanta's better part;

makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains Sad Lucretia's modesty.

he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou Thus Rosalind of many parts

see him again? Answer me in one word! By heavenly synod wus devis’d;

Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first : Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To have the touches dearest priz'd. To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than Heaven would that she these gifts should have,

to answer in a catechism. And I to live and die her slave.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and Ros. O most geutle Jupiter !-what tedious homily in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly, as he did the of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, day he wrestled ? and never cry'd, Have patience, good people! Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve the Cel. How now! back, friends ; — shepherd, go ofl'a propositions of a lover:-but take a taste of my finding little:-go with him, sirrah!

him, and relish it with a good observance. I found Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable him under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn. retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with Ros. It may well be call’d Jove's tree, when it drops scrip and scrippage. (Exeunt. Corin und Touchstone. forth such fruit. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?

Cel. Give me audience, good madam! Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for Ros. Proceed! some of them had in them more feet, than the verses Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded would bear.

knight. Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear becomes the ground. themselves without the verse, and therefore stood Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr’ythee; it curlamely in the verse.

vets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering, how thy Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart. name should be hang’d and carved upon these trees? Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thon Ros. I was seven of the nine days ont of the wonder bring'st me out of tune. before you came ; for look here what I found on a palm- Ros. Do you not know, I am a woman? when I think, tree: I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' 1 must speak. Sweet, say on ! time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly re

Enter Orlando and JAQUES. member.

Cel. You bring me out. --Soft! comes he not here?
Cel. Trow yon, who hath done this?

Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him!
Ros. Is it a man?

(Celia and Rosalind retire. Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his Jaq. I thank yon for your company; but, good faith, neck. Change you colour?

I had as lief have been myself alone.
Ros. I pr’ythee, who?

Orl. And so bad I.; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank
Cel. o Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to you too for your society.
meet; but mountains may be removed with earth-Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we can.
quakes, and so encounter.

Orl. I do desire, we may be better strangers.
Ros. Nay, but who is it?

Jag. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-
Cel. Is it possible?

songsin their barks.
Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petitionary orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with read-
vehemence, tell me, who it is.

ing them ill-favouredly.
Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful, Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that Orl. Yes, just.
ont of all whooping!

Jaq. I do not like her name.
Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, though orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, wh's
I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and she was christen’d.
hose in my disposition ? One inch of delay more is a Jaq. What stature is she of?
South-sea-off dicovery. I prythee, tell me, who is orl. Just as high as my heart.
it? quickly, and speak apace! I would thou couldst' Jaq. You are fullof pretty answers: Have you not

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been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and coon'd giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole
them out of rings ?
sex withal.

where it Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils, from whence you have studied your questions. that he laid to the charge of women ?

beware Jag. You have a nimble wit ; I think it was made of Ros. There were none principal ; they were all like Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we one another, as half-pence are:

:: every fault two will rail against our mistress, the world, and allling monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it. our misery Orl. I pr’ythee, recount some of them!

You Orl. I will cbide no breather in the world, but my- Ros. No; I will not cast away my physic, but on self; against whom I know most faults.

those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love. that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies Teach fam weary of you.

on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of RoJaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I salind. If i could meet that fancy-monger, I would found you.

give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and quotidian of love


him. you shall see him.

Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked; I pray you, tell Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure.

me your remedy! orl. Which I take to be lither a fool, or a cypher. Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you : Jag. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell, good he taught me how to know a man in love; in which signior Love!

cage of rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good mon- Orl. What were his marks? sieur Melancholy!

Ros. A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, (Exit Jaques.- Celia and Rosalind come forward. and sunken ; which you have not: an unquestionable Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and spirit; which you have not: a beard neglected; which under that habit play the knave with him.-Do you you have not ;-but I pardon you for that; for, simply, hear, forester?

your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue: tard Orl. Very well. What would you u ? -Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet

TOL Ros. I pray you, what is't o'clock?

unbanded, your sleeve unbotton'd, your shoe untied, Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's no and every thing about you demonstrating a careless clock in the forest.

desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else point-device in your accoutrements; as loving yoursíghing every minute, and groaning every hour, would self, than seeming the lover of any other.

joe detect the lazy foot oftime, as well as a clock.

Orl, Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I T Orl. And why not the swift foot of time? had not that love.

ho been as proper ?

Ros. Me believe it? you may as soon make her that ho Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers pares you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to with divers persons: I'll tell you, who time ambles do, than to confess, she does: that is one of the points, T withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, in the which women still give the lie to their conscien- lor and who he stands still withal

ces. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verOrl. I pr’ythee, who doth hetrot withal?

ses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired ? Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, be- Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rotween the contract of her marriage, and the day it is salind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, time's Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes pace is so hard, that it seems the length of seven years. speak? Orl. Who ambles time withal ?

Orl. Neither rhyme, nor reason can express, how Ros. With a priest, that lacks Latin, and a rich man, much. that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps easily, be- Ros. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, decause he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, serves as well a dark house and whip, as madmen do: because he feels no pain: the one lacking the burden of and the reason, why they are not so punished and lean and wastefullearning; the other knowing no bur- cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the den of heavy tedious penury: these timeambles withal. whippers are in love too : Yet I profess curing it by Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ?

counsel, Ros. With a thief to the gallows: for though hego as Orl. Did you ever cure any so softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. Ros. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imaOrl. Who stays it still withal?

gine me his love, his mistress;and I set him every day to Ros. With lawyers in the vacation: for they sleep woo me: At which time would I, being but a moonish between term and term, and then they perceive not, youth, grieve, be efl'eminate, changeable, longing, how time moves.

and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconOrl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ?

stant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boys skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat, and women are for the most part cattle of this colour: Orl. Are you native of this place?

would now like him, now loath him; then entertain Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where she is him, then forswcar him; now weep for him, that I kindled.

drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, to a livOrl. Your accentís something finer than you coulding humour of madness; which was, to swear the full purchase in so removed a dwelling.

stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely moRos. I have been told so of many: but, indeed, an nastic. And thus I cured him; and this way will I take old religious unele of mine taught me to speak, who upon me to wash your liver as clean, as a sound sheep's was in his youth an in-land man; one that knew heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't. courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have Orl. I would not be cured, youth. heard him read many lectores against it; and I thank Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me RoGod I am not a woman, to be touched with so many salind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me!




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