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lando, 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 disposed to be merry;
I will laugh like a hyen, and that when you are
inclined to fleep.

Orla. But will my Rosalind do fo?
Rof. By my life, he will do as I do.
Orla. O, but she is wise.

Rof. Or else the could not have the wit to do
this; the wiser the waywarder; make the doors
fast upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the case.
ment; fhut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole ;
stop that, it will fly with the smoak out at the
:: Orla. A man that had a wife with fuch a wity.
he might say, wit, whither wilt?

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

Orla. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?

Kof. Marry, to say she came to feek you there : you shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O that woman, chat cannot make her fanlt her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool!

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

Raf. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

Orla. I must attend the Duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thec again.

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Rof. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove, my friend told me as much, and I thought no lefs; that flattering tongue of yours won me; 'tis but one cast away, and so come death: two oth' clock is your hour !

Orla. Ay, sweet Rofalind.

Rof. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dan, gerous, if you breakone jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the moft hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosa. lind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of . the unfaithful; therefore beware my censure, and keep four promise.

Orla. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rofalind; fo adieu.

Rof Well, Time is the old jutice that examines all such offenders, and let time try. Adieu ?

[Exit Orla. Cel. You have Timply misused our fex in your love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and shew the world what the bird hath done to her own neft.

Rof. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didit know how many fathom deep 1 am in love; but it cannot be founded: my affection hath an unknown botrom, like the bay of Portugal. I'm

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

Rof. No, that fame wicked bastard of Venus, that was beğot of Thought, conceived. of Spleen, and born of Madness, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him he judge how deep I am in love; I'll tell thee Alicna, I cannot be out of the light of Orlando

go find a shadow, and figh ’till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep."

[Exeunt. Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foreffers. Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? Lord. Sir, it was I.

jay. Let's present him to the Duke, like a Rob man conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns


his forehead, for a branch of victory: have you no long, Forester, for this purpose?

For. Yes, Sit.

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, to it make noise enough.

Muac, so s ở. What fhall he have that killed the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear ; Then sing bim home:-take thou no scorn (24) To wear the horn, the horn, the horn: The rest It was a crest ere thou wast born.

this burThy father's father wore it, And thy father borte it: The horn, the horn, the lusty horn, Is not a thing to laugh to fcorn. [Exeunt.

(24) Then sing him home, the rest Mall bear this burden.] This is an admirable instance of the sagacity of our preceding editors, to say nothing worse. One Thould expect, when they were poets, they would at least have taken care of the rhimes, and not foilted in what has nothing to answer it. Now, where is the thime to, the rest fall bear this burden? or, to ask another question, where is the sense of it? Does the Poet mean, that he that killed the deer shall be fung home, and the test thall bear the deet on their backs. This is laying a burden on the Poet, that we must help him to throw off. In dort, the mystery of the whole is, that a marginal note is wisely thrast ioco the text : the fong being designed to be sung by a single voice, and the stanzas t® close with a burden to be fung by the whole company.

thall bear



Rof. How fay you now, is it not past two o'clock?
I wonder much Orlando is not here.

Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who comes here,

Enter siLVIUS
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth,
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the stern brow, and wafpifh action
Which the did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour; pardon me,
I am but as a guiltlefs messenger

Rof. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all,
She fays I am not fair; that I lack manners;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me
Were men as rare as phenix. Odds


Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.
Why writes the fo to me? Well, thepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents :
Phebe did write it.

Ros. Come, come, you're a fool,
And turned into th' extremity of love.
I saw her hand, she has a leathern hand,
A free-stone-colou: 2d hand; I verily did think,
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands
She has a huswife's hand, but that's no matter;
I say she never did invent this letter ;
This is a man's invention, and his hand.

Sil. Sure, it is hers'.
Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel Atyle,

A style for challengers; why, the defies me,
Like Turk to Chriitian; woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant rude invention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance; will you hear the letter?

Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.

Rof. She Phebe's me; mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads.] “ Art thou God to thepherd turn'd,

-" That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? Can a woman rail thus? Sil. Call you this railing ?

Rof: [Reads.] “ Why, thy godhead laid apart, " Warr'lt thou with a woman's heart? Did you ever hear fuch railing ?

“ Whiles the eye of man did woo me,

“ That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beast!

“ If the scorn of your bright eyne
“ Have power to raise such love in mine,
.“ Alack, in me, what strange effect
“ Would they work in mild aspect ?
66 Whiles you chid me, I did love;
• How then might your prayers move?
“ He that brings this love to thee,

Little knows this love in me;
“ And by him seal up thy mind,
Whether that thy youth and kind
66 Will the faithful offer take
“ Of me, and all that I can make;
« Or elfe by him my love deny,
“ And then I'll study how to die.”
Sil. Call you this chiding?
Gel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? what, to make thee Vol. IV.


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