Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit Jaques. [Celia and Rosalind come forward. Ros. [Aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him.-Do you hear, forester? Orl. Very well: what would you? Ros. I pray you, what is 't o'clock? Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day: there's no clock in the forest. 319 Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper? Ros. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons: I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. 1 No breather, i.e. no one, no human being. Orl. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemniz'd: if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year. 328 Orl. Who ambles Time withal? Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain: [the one lacking the burden of lean and waste-? ful learning; the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury:] these Time ambles? withal. Orl. Who doth he gallop withal? Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. Orl. Who stays it still withal? Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time moves. 351 Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth? Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. [Orl. Are you native of this place? Ros. As the cony, that you see dwell where she is kindled.2] Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. Ros. I have been told so 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; and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal. Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women? Ros. There were none principal: they were all like one another as half-pence are; every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellowfault came to match it. Orl. I prithee, recount some of them. 2 Kindled, littered; a technical term. Ros. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies on brambles; all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. Orl. I am he that is so love-shak'd: I pray you, tell me your remedy. Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. Orl. What were his marks? 390 Ros. A lean cheek,-which you have not; a blue1 eye and sunken,-which you have not; an unquestionable spirit,-which you have not; a beard neglected,-which you have not;--but I pardon you for that; for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue: then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbutton'd, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation; --but you are no such man,-you are rather point-devise in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. Ros. Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does: that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. 1 Blue, that is, with blue lines under it. 2 Unquestionable, unwilling to be questioned. 419 Ros. Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me: at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something, and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cur'd him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. Orl. I would not be cured, youth. Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to my cote and woo me. Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me where it is. 450 Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you: and, by the way, you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? Orl. With all my heart, good youth. Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind.Come, sister, will you go? [Exeunt. SCENE III. Another part of the forest. Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; [JAQUES behind.] Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you? 3 Moonish, wayward. Go find him out, 15 [E Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone This wide and universal theatre All the world' Jaq. And In fair round belly wit Re-e And let h Orl. I be pleased to command. I scarce Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Roland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, Go to my cave and tell me.-Good old man, ACT III. FREDERICK, OLIVER, Lords, and Attendants. ot see him since? Sir, sir, that fair round be: With eyes sever the better part made mercy, thou present. But look to it: other, wheresoe'er he is; Full of wise sk an absent argument And so he plays Into the lean 13 With spectacles His youthful b For his strat Attle Turning a ndle; bring him dead or living emonth, or turn thou no more our territory. 2 ings that thou dost call thine we seize into our hands, chee by thy brother's mouth gainst thee. And whistles: That ends th Is secund £ Sans teeth 12 highness knew my heart her in my life. in thou. Well, push uch a nature is house and lands: 1 turn him going. [Exeunt. on or likeness. [Exeunt |