world, and to live in a nook meerly monaftick; and thus I cur'd him, and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clear as a found fheep's heart, that there fhall not be one fpot of love in't.

Orla. I would not be cur'd, youth.

Rof. I would cure you if you would but call me Rofalind, and come every day to my cote, and woo me.

Orla. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell me where it is.

Rof. Go with me to it, and I will fhew it you; and by the way you fhall tell me where in the foreft you live: will you go?

Orla. With all my heart, good youth.

Rof. Nay, nay, you must call me Rofalind: come, fifter, will

you go?

[Exeunt.

Enter Clown, Audrey and Jaques.

Clo. Come apace, good Audrey, I will fetch up your goats, Audrey; and now, Audrey, am I the man yet? doth my fimple feature content you?

Aud. Your features, lord warrant us! what features? Clo. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the moft capricious poet honeft Ovid was among the Goths.

Jaq. O knowledge ill inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch'd house.

Clo. When a man's verfes cannot be understood, nor man's good wit feconded with the forward child, underftanding it ftrikes a man more dead than a great "'reeking in a little room: truly I would the Gods had made thee poetical.

Aud. I do not know what poetical is; is it honeft in deed and word? is it a true thing?

Clo. No truly; for the trueft poetry is the most feigning, and lovers are given to poetry, and what they fwear in poetry, may be faid as lovers, they do feign.

9 reckoning

Aud.

Aud. Do you with then that the Gods had made me poetical?

Clo. I do truly; for thou fwear'st to me thou art honeft: now if thou' wert a poet, I might have fome hope thou didft feign.

Aud. Would you not have me honest?

Clo. No truly, unless thou wert hard-favour'd; for honefty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a fawce to fugar.

Jaq. A material fool!

Aud. Well, I am not fair, and therefore I pray the Gods make me honeft.

Clo. Truly, and to caft away honefty upon a foul flut were to put good meat into an unclean difh.

Aud. I am not a flut, though I thank the Gods I am foul.

Clo. Well, praised be the Gods for thy foulnefs! fluttishness may come hereafter: but be it as it may be, I will marry thee; and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meet me in this place of the foreft, and to couple us.

faq. I would fain fee this meeting.

Aud. Well, the Gods give us joy!

Clo. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, ftagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no affembly but horn-beafts. But what tho'? courage. As horns are odious, they are neceffary. It is faid, many a man knows no end of his goods: right: many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife, 'tis none of his own getting; horns? even fopoor men alone? no, no, the nobleft deer hath them as huge as the rafcal: is the fingle man therefore bleffed? no. As a wall'd town is worthier than a village, fo is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a batchelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, so much is a horn more precious than to want.

Enter

Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text.

Here comes Sir Oliver: Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are wellmet. Will you difpatch us here under this tree, or fhall we go with you to your chappel?

Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman?
Clo. I will not take her on gift of any man.

Sir Oli. Truly fhe must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.

Jaq. Proceed, proceed! I'll give her.

Clo. Good even, good mafter what ye call: how do you, Sir? you are very well met: God'ild you for your laft company! I am very glad to fee you; even a toy in hand here, Sir: nay'; pray be covered.

Jag. Will you be married, Motley?

Clo. As the ox hath his bow, Sir, the horse his curb, and the faulcon his bells, fo man hath his defire; and as pigeons bill, fo wedlock would be nibling.

Faq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bufh like a beggar? get you to church, and have a good prieft that can tell you what marriage is; this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a fhrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, warp.

Clo. I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of him than of another; for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excufe for me hereafter to leave my wife.

faq. Go thou with me, and let me counfel thee.

Clo. Come, fweet Audrey, we must be married, or we muft live in bawdry: farewel, good Mr. Oliver; not O fweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, leave me not behind thee; but wind away, be gone, I fay, I will not to wedding with thee.

Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all fhall flout me out of my calling.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Enter Rofalind and Celia.

Rof. Never talk to me, I will weep.

Cel. Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to confider that tears do not become a man.

Rof. But have I not cause to weep?

Cel. As good caufe as one would defire, therefore weep.
Rof. His very hair is of a diffembling colour.

Cel. Something browner than Judas's: marry his kiffes are Judas's own children.

Rof. I'faith his hair is of a good colour.

Cel. An excellent colour: your chefnut was ever the only colour.

Rof. And his kiffing is as full of fanctity as the touch of holy 'beard.`a

Cel. He hath bought a pair of caft lips of Diana; a nun of winter's fifterhood kiffes not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

Rof. But why did he fwear he would come this morning, and comes not?

Cel. Nay, certainly there is no truth in him.

Rof. Do you think fo?

Cel. Yes, I think he is not a pick-purfe, nor a horfeftealer; but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd goblet, or a worm-eaten nut.

Rof. Not true in love?

Cel. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. Rof. You have heard him fwear downright he was. Cel. Was, is not, is; befides, the oath of a lover is no ftronger than the word of a tapfter; they are both the confirmers of falfe reckonings; he attends here in the foreft on the Duke your father.

Rof. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much queftion with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I told

him

(a) Meaning the kifs of charity from Hermits and holy men. Warb. ■ bread..., old edit. Warb. emend.

him of as good as he; fo he laugh'd, and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is fuch a man as Orlando?

Cel. O, that's a brave man, he writes brave verses, fpeaks brave words, fwears brave caths, and breaks them bravely; quite travers athwart the heart of his lover, as a puifny tilter, that fpurs his horfe but on one fide, breaks his staff like a 'nofe-quill'd' goofe; but all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides: who comes here?

2

Enter Corin.

Cor. Mistress and mafter, you have oft enquir'd
After the shepherd that complain'd of love,
Whom you faw fitting by me on the turf,
Praifing the proud difdainful fhepherdess
That was his mistress.

Cel. Well, and what of him?

Cor. If you will fee a pageant truly plaid
Between the pale complexion of true love,
And the red glow of fcorn and proud difdain;
Go hence a little, and I fhall conduct you,
If you will mark it.

Rof. O come, let us remove;

The fight of lovers feedeth thofe in love:
Bring us but to this fight, and you shall fay
I'll prove a bufy actor in their play.

[Exeunt.

Syl. Sweet Phebe, do not fcorn me, do not, Phebe; Say that you love me not, but fay not fo

In bitterness; the common executioner,

Whose heart th' accustom'd fight of death makes hard, Falls not the ax upon the humbled neck,

But first begs pardon: will you fterner be

Than he that 'lives and thrives by bloody drops?

Enter