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 fortune, 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 humour, 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.

71

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 dash'd 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 liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd: and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was-Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies: men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill

Orl. So do all thoughts,-they are wing'd. Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have possess'd her.

Orl. For ever and a day.

Ros. Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky 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 against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen,3 and that when thou art inclin'd to sleep.

Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? Ros. By my life, she will do as I do. Orl. O, but she is wise.

100 .

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to

3 Hyen, the old form of hyena.

Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try: adieu. [Exit Orlando.

Cel. You have simply misus'd1 our sex in your love-prate: [we must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest.]

Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.

213

Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.

[Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of spleen, and born of madness; that blind ras(cally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, lecause his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love:-I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando; I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep.]

[Exeunt.

[Reads.

Meaning me a beast.—

"If the scorn of your bright eyne

Have power to raise such love in mine,

Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspéct !
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 seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take

Of me, and all that I can make;

Or else by him my love deny,

And then I'll study how to die."

Sil. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!

50

60

Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman?—What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be endur'd!—Well, go your way to her,-for I see love hath made thee a tame snake,-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 Silvius.

Enter OLIVER.

Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know,

Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
Cel. West of this place, down in the neigh-
bour bottom:

The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream,

88

Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: 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 say we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin;-are you he?
Ros. I am: what must we understand by
this?

Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know