wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the fky 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 againft rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my defires than a monkey; I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are difpos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a Hyen, and that when you are inclin'd to fleep.[1]

Orla. But will my Rofalind do fo?
Rof. By my life, fhe will do as I do.
Orla. O, but she is wife.

Rof. Or elfe fhe could not have the wit to do this: the wifer, the waywarder : Make the doors[2] upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the cafement; fhut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; ftop that, it will fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

Orla. A man that had a wife with fuch a wit, he might say,—Wit, whither wilt ?[3]

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? Rof. Marry, to fay, he came to feek you there. Your fhall never take her without her anfwer, unless you take her without her tongue. O that woman, that cannot make her fault her husband's occafion,[4] let her never nurfe her child herself, for fhe will breed it like a fool!

Orla. For these two hours, Rofalind, I will leave thee. Rof. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. Orla. I muft attend the duke at dinner: By two o'clock I will be with thee again.

Rof. Ay, go your ways, go your ways :-I knew what you would prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no lefs that flattering tongue of your's won me :-'tis but one caft away, and fo, come, death :Two o'the clock is your hour?

Orla. Ay, fweet Rofalind.

[1] The bark of the hyena, very much resembles a loud laugh. STEEV. [2] This is an expreffion used in several of the midland counties, infiead of 'bar the doors." STEEV.

[3] This must be fome allufion to a story well known at that time, though now perhaps irretrievable. JOHNS.

This was an exclamation much in ufe, when any one was either talking nonfenfe, or ufurping a greater fhare in converfation than juftly belonged to him. STEEV.

[4] That is, reprefent her fault as occafioned by her husband. JOHNS.

Rof. By my troth, and in good earneft, and fo God mend me; and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promife, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promife, and the moft hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chofen out of the grofs band of the unfaithful : therefore, beware my cenfure, and keep your promise.

Orla. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rofalind: So, adieu.

Rof. Well, time is the old juftice that examines all fuch offenders, and let time try: Adieu! [Exit ORLANDO.

Cel. You have fimply mifus'd our fex in your loveprate: we must have your doublet and hofe pluck'd over your head, and fhew the world what the bird hath done to her own neft.

Rof. O coz', coz', coz', my pretty little coz', that thou didft know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be founded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.

Cel. Or rather, bottomlefs; that as faft as you pour affection in, it runs out.

Rof. No, that fame wicked baftard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madnefs; that blind rafcally boy, that abufes every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love:-I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of fight of Orlando I'll go find a shadow, and figh till he come. Cel. And I'll fleep. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Forefters.

Faq. Which is he that kill'd the deer?
Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror and it would do well to fet the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory: Have you no fong, forefter, for this purpose?

For. Yes, fir.

Jaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noife enough.

Mufic, SONG.

1. What shall be have that kill'd the deer?
2. His leather skin, and horns to wear.
1. Then fing him home:

Take thou no scorn

To wear the horn, the horn, the horn:
It was a ereft ere thou waft born.
1. Thy father's father wore it;
2. And thy father bore it :
The horn, the born, the lufty born,
Is not a thing to laugh to fcorn.

SCENE III.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

The reft

fhall bear

this bur

den.

[Exeunt,

Rof. How fay you now? Is it not past two o'clock ? and here's much Orlando!

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

Enter SYLVIUS.

Syl. My errand is to you, fair youth;My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: [Giving a letter I know not the contents; but, as I guess,

By the ftern brow, and waspish action

Which she did ufe as fhe was writing of it,

It bears an angry tenor: pardon me,

I am but as a guiltlefs meffenger.

Rof. [Reading.] Patience herfelf would ftartle at this letter,

And play the fwaggerer ;-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 man as rare as Phoenix. 'Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt :
Why writes fhe fo to me?-Well, fhepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Syl. No, I proteft, I know not the contents;
Phebe did write it.

Rof. Come, come, you're a fool,

And turn'd into the extremity of love.

I faw her hand fhe has a leathern hand,

A freeftone-coloured hand; I verily did think

That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;
She has a hufwife's hand: but that's no matter :-
I fay, fhe never did invent this letter ;-

This is a man's invention, and his hand.
Syl. Sure it is her's.

Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style,
A ftyle for challengers; why, the defies me,
Like Turk to Chriftian: woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth fuch giant-rude invention;
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect

Than in their countenance :-Will you hear the letter? Syl. 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 Shepherd turn'd,

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?

Can a woman rail thus ?

Syl. Call you this railing?

Rof. [Reads.] Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr'ft 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[5] to me.-.

Meaning me, a beaft.

If the fcorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raife fuch love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild afpect?
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 Yeal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
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.

[5] 'Vengeance' is used for Mischief. JOHNS.

Syl. Call you this chiding?

Cel. Alas, poor fhepherd!

Rof. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.-Wilt thou love fuch a woman? What, to make thee an inftrument, and play false ftrains upon thee? not to be endured!-Well, go your way to her, (for I fee love hath made thee a tame fnake) and say this to her ;-"That if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her." If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit SYLVIUS.

Enter OLIVER.

Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray, if you know
Where, in the purlieus of this foreft, ftands
A fheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?

Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbour bottom,
The rank of ofiers, by the murmuring stream,
Left on your right-hand, brings you to the place :
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,
There's none within.

Oli. If that.an eye doth profit by a tongue,
Then fhould I know you by description;
Such garments and fuch years: The boy is fair,
Of female favour, and beftows himself
Like a ripe fifter: but the woman low,
And browner than her brother. Are not you
The owner of the house I did inquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to fay we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
He fends this bloody napkin.. Are you he?

Rof. I am: What muft we understand by this? Oli. Some of my fhame; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where, This handkerchief was ftain'd.

Cel. I pray you tell it.

Oli. When laft the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again

Within an hour; and, pacing through the foreft,
Chewing the food of fweet and bitter fancy,

Lo, what befel! he threw his eye afide

And, mark, what object did prefent itself!

Under an oak, whofe boughs were mofs'd with age,