Cel. (L.C.) Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows

"Twixt the souls of friend and friend;
But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence end,

Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all that read, to know
This quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in a little show.
Therefore Heaven nature charged,
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarged:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty :
Atalanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.

Thus Rosalind, of many parts

By Heavenly synod was devised:

39

[ROSALIND advances behind CELIA.

Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have,

And I to live and die her slave.

Ros. O, most gentle Jupiter!-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, "Have patience, good people!"

Cel. Now now!-back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little;-Go with him, sirrah.

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.

[Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTone, l.

Cel. (L. c.) Didst thou hear these verses?

Ros. (R. C.) Oh, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

a

Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering, how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees? Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of wonder, before you came; for look here what I found on a palmtree.

Cel. Trow you who hath done this?

Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck change you colour?

Ros. I pr'ythee, who?

Cel. O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to neet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it? Nay, I pr'ythee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is?

Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping!

Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? What manner of man? Is his head

worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard.

Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful; let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.

Cet. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant.

Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking.

Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.

Ros. Orlando?

Cel. Orlando.

Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he, when thou saw'st hini? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.

Cel. Thou must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size: To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshy as he did the day he wrestled?

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Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve the propositions of a lover :-but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under an oak tree, like a dropped acorn.

Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. He was furnished like a hunter.

Ros. Oh, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.

Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bring'st me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Enter JAQUES and ORLANDO, L.

Cel. You bring me out :-Soft, comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him.

[CELIA and ROSALIND retire back on R. Jaques. (R. c.) I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Orl. (L. C.) And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.

Jaques, Heaven be with you! let's meet as little as

we can.

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers.

Jaques. I pray you, mar no more trees, with writing love-songs on their barks.

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses, with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaques. Rosalind is your love's name?

Ori. Yes, just.

Jaques. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christened.

Jaques. What stature is she of?

Orl. Just as high as my heart.

Jaques. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them out of rings?-Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistresses, the world, and all our misery.

Ori. I will chide no breather in the world, but myself, against whom I know most faults.

Jaques. The worst fault you have is, to be in love.

Orl. 'Tis a fault I would not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

Jaques. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I found you.

Orl. He is drowned in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaques. There I shall see mine own figure.

Ori. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cipher. Jaques. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good Signior Love! [Exit, R. Orl. I'm glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy!

[ROSALIND comes forward. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. [R. c.] Do you hear, forester?

Orl. (L. c.) Very well; what would you?

Ros. I pray you, what is't a clock?

Orl. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's no clock in the forest.

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.

Orl. I pr'ythee, whom doth lie trot withal?

Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnised; if the interim be but a se'nnight, time's pace is so hard, that it seems the length of seven years. 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. These time ambles withal.

Orl. Whom doth he gallop withal?

Rós. 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 withal?

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep

between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves. [CELIA advances.

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. 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 heaven I am not a woman to be touched with so many giddy offences, as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.

Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women?

Ros. They were none principal; they were alì like one another, as halfpence are: every one fault seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it.

Orl. I pr'ythee, recount some of them.

Ros. No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. [CELIA relires up the Stage.] 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-shaked; 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?

Ros. A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue 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 no beard is a younger brother's revenue. Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather pointdevice in your accoutrements; as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.