curvets unfeasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. RO ominous, he comes to kill my heart. Get. I would fing my fong without a burthen; thou bringeft me out of tune. Rof. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I muit fpeak: fweet, fay on. Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here? Rof. 'Tis he; flink by and note him. [Cel. and Rof. retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myfelf alone. Orla. And to had I; but yet for fashion fake, I thank you too for your fociety. Jaq. God b' w' you, let's meet as little as we can. Orla. I do defire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, marr no more trees with writing love-fongs, in their barks. Orla. (7) I pray you, marr no more of my verfes with reading them ill-favouredly. Jaq. Rofalind is your love's name? Orld. Yes, juft. Jaq. I do not like her name, Orla. There was no thought of pleafing you when she was chriftened. Jaq. What ftature is the of? Orla. Juft as high as my heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty aufwers; have you not been acquainted with goldfmiths wives, and conned them out of rings? (17) I pray you, marr no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.] The Poet feems to have had in his eye this diftich of Martial; Lib. I. Epigr. 39. Quem recitas meus eft, o Filentine, libellus; VOL. IV. M Orla. Not fo: (18) but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have ftudied your questions. Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you fit down with me, and we two will rail against our mistrefs, the world, and all our misery. Orla. I will chide no breather in the world but myfelf, against whom I know moft faults. Jaq. The worft fault you have, is to be in love. Orla. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue; I am weary of you. Jaq. By my troth, I was feeking for a fool when I found you. Orla. He is drowned in the brook; look but in, and fhall fee him. you Faq. There I fhall fee mine own figure. Orla. Which I take to be either a fool or a cypher. Jaq. I'll ftay no longer with you; farewel, good Signior Love! [Exit. Orla. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monfieur Melancholy ! [Cel. and Rof. come forward. Rof. I will speak to him like a fawcy laquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forefter? Orla. Very well; what would you? Rof. I pray you, what is't a clock? Orla. You fhould ask me, what time o' day; there's no clock in the foreft. (18) But I answer you right painted cloth ] This alludes to the fashion, in old tapestry hangings, of mottos and moral fentences from the mouths of the figures worked or painted in them. The Poet again hints at this cuftom in his poem, called Tarquin and Lucrece : Who fears a fentence, or an old man's faw, Rof. Then there is no true lover in the foreft elfe, fighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock. Orla. And why not the fwift foot of time? had not that been as proper? Rof. By no means, Sir: time travels in divers paces, with divers perfons; I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, whọ Time gallops withal, and who he ftands still withal. Orla. I pr'ythee, whom doth he trot withal? Rof. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is folemnized: if the interim be but a fe'ennight, Time's pace is so hard, that it seems the length of feven years. Orla. Who ambles Time withal? Rof. With a prieft that lacks Latia, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one fleeps cafily, because he cannot ftudy; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: the one lackin; the burden of lean and wafteful learning; the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. Thefe Time ambles withal. Orla. Whom doth he gallop withal? Rof. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as foftly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too foon there. Orla. Whom ftays it ftill withal? Rof With lawyers in the vacation; for they fleep between term and term, and then they per ceive not how Time moves. Orla. Where dwell you, pretty youth? Ref. With this fhepherdefs, my fifter, here in the fkirts of the foreft, like fringe upon a petticoat. Orla. Are you native of this place? Rof. As the is kindled. coney, that you fee dwell where the Orla. Your accent is fomething finer than you. could purchase in fo removed a dwelling. Ref. I have been told fo of many; but, indeed, an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man, one that knew courtship too well: for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it; I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with fo many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole fex withal.. Orla. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women? Ref. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as halfpence are; every one fault feeming monftrous, 'till his fellow-fault came to match it. Orla. I pr'ythee, recount fome of them. Ref. No; I will not caft away my phyfic, but on thofe that are fick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abufes our young plants with carvingRofalind on their barks; hangs odes upon haw thorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forfooth,. deifying the name of Rofalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him fome good counfel, for he feems to have the quotidian of love upon him. Orla. I am he that is fo love-fhaked; I pray you tell me your remedy. Ref. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rufhes, I am fure, you are not pri foner. Orla. What were his marks? Ref. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and funken, which you have not; an un- Orla. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. Rof. Me believe it? you may as foon make her, that you love, believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confefs fhe does; that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their confciences. But, in good footh, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rofalind is fo admired? Orla. I fwear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rofalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. Rof. But are you fo much in love as your thimes speak? Orla. Neither rhime nor reafon can exprefs how .much. Rof. Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, deferves as well a dark house and a whip, as mad-men do: and the reafon why they are not fo punished and cured is, that the lunacy is fo ordínary, that the whippers are in love too: yet I pro fels curing it by counfel. Orla. Did you ever cure any fo? R. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I fet him every day to wooe me. At which time would I, |