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SCENE III.

Another Part of the Forest.

Enter Rosalind, and Orlando.

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Ros. 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. Oil. 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 clapp'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 wornan. 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 gravell'd for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

Orl. How if the kiss be denied?

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

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

Ros. Nos 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 dash'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 midsummer night: for,—good youth!—he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was—Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me. Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly.—

Enter Celia.

But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and, ask me what you will, I will grant it."

Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.

Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays, and Saturdays,

and all.

Orl. And wilt thou have me?

Ros. Ay, and twenty such.
Orl. What say'st thou?
Ros. Are you not good?
Orl. I hope so.

Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando:What do you say, sister?

Cel. I cannot say the words.

Ros. You must begin,Will you, Orlando,-
Cel. Go to

this Rosalind?

Orl. I will.

Will you, Orlando, have to wife

E

Ros. Ay, but when?

Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Ros. Then you must say,—I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have her, after you have possess'd her.

Orl. For ever, and a day.

Ros. 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 sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that, when you are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to sleep. Orl. Will my Rosalind do so?

Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.
Orl. O, but she is wise.

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 't will fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say,-Wit, whither wilt?

Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? Ros. Marry, to say, she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool.

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When shepherd's pipe on oaten straws,
And merry Lirks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smacks;
The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo,

Cuckoo, cuckoo,—O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

Orh For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.

Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner:—By two o'clock I will be with thee again.

Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less that flattering tongue of yours Won me 't is but one cast away, and so,come, death. Two o'clock is your hour?

Qrl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so heaven mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hol low lover, and the most unworthy of her you call

Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.

Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: So, adieu.

Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: Adieu!

[Exit Orlando. Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your loveprate.

Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.

Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that, as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.

Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love:—I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come.

Cel. Look, who comes here?

Enter Silvius.

Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth;─ My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:

[Giving a letter.

I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me,

I am but as a guiltless messenger.

Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says, I am not fair; that I lack manners;

She calls me proud; and, that she could not love mo
Were man as rare as phoenix: Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:

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