I love him not nor hate him not; and yet

I have more cause to hate him than to love him:
For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said mine eyes were black and my hair
black;

And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me:
I marvel why I answer'd not again:

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But that's all one; omittance is no quittance. I'll write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius? Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.

Phe.

I'll write it straight;
The matter's in my head and in my heart:
I will be bitter with him and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius.

[Exeunt.

ACT FOURTH

SCENE I

The forest.

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques.

Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better
acquainted with thee.

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are

abominable fellows, and betray themselves
to every modern censure worse than drunk-
ards.
Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy,

10

which is emulation; nor the musician's, which
is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is
proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious;
nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the
lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which
is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine
own, compounded of many simples, ex-
tracted from many objects; and indeed the
sundry contemplation of my travels, in 20

which my often rumination wraps me in a

most humorous sadness.

Ros. A traveler! By my great reason to be sad:

faith, you have
I fear you have

sold your own lands to see other men's; then,
to have seen much, and to have nothing, is
to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.
Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I
had rather have a fool to make me merry 30
than experience to make me sad; and to
travel for it too!

Enter Orlando.

Orl. Good-day and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse. [Exit. Ros. Farewell, Monsieur Traveler: look you lisp and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I 40 will scarce think you have swom in a gondola. Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

41. "swom in a gondola”; that is, been at Venice, then the resort of all travelers, as Paris now. Shakespeare's contemporaries also point their shafts at the corruption of our youth by travel. Bishop Hall wrote his little book Quo Vadis? to stem the fashion.-H. N. H.

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love! He that

will divide a minute into a thousand parts,
and break but a part of the thousandth part 50
of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be
said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o'
the shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-
whole.

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be wooed of a snail. Orl. Of a snail?

Ros. Aye, of a snail; for though he comes

slowly, he carries his house on his head; a 60 better jointure, I think, than you make a woman: besides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orl. What's that?

Ros. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortunes and prevents the slander of his wife.

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.

Ros. And I am your Rosalind.

Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a
Rosalind of a better leer than you.

Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a
holiday humor and like enough to consent.
What would you say to me now, an I were
your very very Rosalind?

Orl. I would kiss before I spoke.

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and

XVIII-7

97

70

when you were graveled for lack of matter, 80
you might take occasion to kiss. Very good
orators, when they are out, they will spit;
and for lovers lacking-God warn us!-
matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

Orl. How if the kiss be denied?

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty and there begins new matter.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?

Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your 90 mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.

Orl. What, of my suit?

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?

Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her.

Ros. Well, in her person, I say I will not have

you.

Orl. Then in mine own person I die.
Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor
world is almost six thousand years old, and
in all this time there was not any man died
in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause.
Troilus had his brains dashed out with a
Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die
before, and he is one of the patterns of love.
Leander, he would have lived many a fair

100

92. "ranker"; greater. If she did not discomfit Orlando, her wit must be less than her virtue.-C. H. H.

101. "by attorney"; by proxy.—C. H. H.