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But fure he is proud; and yet his pride becomes him;
He'll make a proper man; the best thing in him.
Is his complexion; and fafter than his tongue.\
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up:
He is not very tall, yet for his years he's tall;
His leg is but fo fo, and yet 'tis well;
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper, and more lufty red

Than that mixed in his cheek; 'twas juft the difference
Betwixt the conftant red and mingled damask.
There be fome women, Silvius, had they marked
In parcels as I did, would have gone near [him
To fall in love with him; but for my part,
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 faid mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And now I am remembered, fcorned at me:
I marvel why I answered not again;

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 strait;

The matter's in my head, and in my heart,
I will be bitter with him, and paffing fhort:
Go with me, Silvius.

A C T IV.

SCENE continues in the Foreft

[Exeuut

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.

A

JAQUES.

PRY THEE, pretty youth, let me be better ac-, quainted with thee

Rof. They fay you are a melancholy fellow. Faq. Iam fo; I do love it better than laughing. Rof. Thofe that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themfelves to every modern cenfure, worse then drunkards.. ^

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be fad, and say nothing? Rof. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Faqs I have neither the feholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the mufician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier's, which is ambitious; nor the law. yer'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 fimples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous fadnefs.

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Rof. A traveller! by my faith you have great reas: fon to be fad: I fear you have fold your own lands to fee 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..

Enter ORLANDO2

Rof. And your experience makes you fad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry, than expe-rience to make me fad, and to travel for it too.

Orla Good-day, and happiness, dear Rofalind! Jaq. Nay, then God b'w' you, an you talk in blank verfe.

[Exit. Rof. Farewel, monfieur traveller: look yon lip and wear ftrange fuits; difable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almoft chide God for making you that countenance you are; or will fearce think yeus

have fwam in a gondola. Why, how now, Orlando, where have you been all this while? You a lover? an you ferve me fuch another trick, never come in my fight more.

Orla. My fair Rofalind, I come within an hour of my promife.....

Ref. Break an hour's promife in love? he that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be faid of him, that Cupid hath clapt him o' th' fhoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole.

Orla. Pardon me, dear Rofalind.

Raf. Nay, an you be fo tardy, come no more in my fight; I had as lief be wooed of a fnail. Orla. Of a fail? 11

Ref. Ay, of a fnail; for tho' he comes flowly, he carries his houfe on his head: a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman: befides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orla. What's that?

Rof. Why, horns; which fuch as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for; but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the flander of his wife.

Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rofalind is virtuous.

Raf. And I am your Rofalind.

Cel. It pleafes him to call you fo; but he hath a Rofalind of a better leer than you.

Raf. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holyday humour, and like enough to confent; what a Would you fay to me now, an I were your very, very Rofalind?

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Orla. I would kifs, before I fpoke.

Ref. Nay, you were better speak firft, and when

you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occafion to kifs. Very good orators, when they are out, they will fpit; and for lovers lacking, God warn us, matter, the cleanlieft thift is to kils, "Orla. How if the kifs be denied?

Rof. Then he puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.

Orla. Who could be out, being before his be loved mistress?

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Rof. Marry that fhould you, if I were your mi ftrefs; or I fhould think my honesty ranker than my wit.

Orla., What, of thy fuit?

Ref. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your fuit, Am not Í your Rofalind?

Orla. I take fome joy to fay you are, because I' would be talking of her.

Rof. Well, in her perfon, I fay I will not have you.

Orla. Then in mine own perfon I die.

Rof. No, faith, die by attorney: the poor world is almoft fix thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-caufe. Troilus had his brains dafhed 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 year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midfummer night; for, good. youth, he went but forth to wath in the Hellefpont, and being taken with the cramp, was drowned; and the foolish choniclers of that age found it was, Hero of Seftos. But thefe are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

Orla. I would not have my right Rofalind of this mind; for I proteft her frown might kill me.

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Rof. By this hand it will not kill a fly. But come; now I will be your Rofalind in a more coming-on difpofition; and afk me what you will, I will grant it.

Orla. Then love me, Rofalind.

Rof. Yes, faith will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.

Orla. And wilt thou have me?

Rof. Ay, and twenty fuch..
Orla. What fayeft thou?
Rof. Are you not good?
Orla. I hope fo.

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Rof. Why then, can one defire too much of a good thing? Come, fifter, you fhall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando What do you fay, filter?

Orla. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot fay the words.

Rof. You must begin.-Will you, Orlando― Gel. Go to; will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rofalind?

Orla. I will

Ref. Ay, but when?

Orla. Why now, as fast as fhe can marry us. Ref. Then you: muft fay, I take thee Rofalind for wife.

Orla. I take thee Rofalind for wife..

Rof. I might afk you for your commiflion, but I do take thee, Crlando, for my husband: there's al girl goes before the priest, and certainly a woman's thought runs before her actions.

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Orla. So do all thoughts; they are winged.

Ref. Now tell me how long you would have her after you have poffefled her.

Orla. For ever and a day,

Ref. Say a day, without the ever: no, no, Or

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