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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 further recompense, Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty
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 while ? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, That the old carlot' once was master of.
Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevisho 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, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes
He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him
gone near To fall in love with him : but, for my part,
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet
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.
ACT THE FOURTH.
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. Rós. 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'; 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
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, farewell, an you talk in blank
[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, or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. — Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover ? serve me such another trick, never come in my sight
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 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.
Ori. 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?
Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Rosalind is virtuous. Ros. And I am
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.
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
if I were your mistress.
Orl. What, of my suit ?
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, and, being taken with the cramp, was drowned; 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: 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.
Ori. And wilt thou have me?
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?
Orl. Pray thee, marry us.