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I

ACT IV.

SCENE continues in the FOREST.

Enter Rofalind, Celia, and Jaques.

JAQUES.

Pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.

Rof. They fay, you are a melancholy fellow..

Jaq. I am fo; I do love it better than laughing.

Rof. Thofe, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern cenfure, worse than drunkards.

Faq. Why, 'tis good to be fad, and fay nothing. Rof. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.

Faq. I have neither the fcholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politick; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all thefe; 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 moft humorous sadness.

Rof. A traveller! by my faith, you have great reason to be fad: I fear, you have fold your own lands, to fee other mens; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gain'd my experience.

Enter Orlando.

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

Orla

Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rofalind! Jaq. Nay, then God b'w'y you, an you talk in blank verse. [Exit.

Rof. Farewel, monfieur traveller; look, you lifp,and wear strange suits; difable 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 will scarce think, you 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 promise.

Rof. 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.

Rof. Nay, an you be fo tardy, come no more in my fight; I had as lief be woo'd of a fnail.

Orla. Of a fnail?

Rof. 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 such 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.

Rof. And I am your Rofalind.

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

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

Orla. I would kifs, before I fpoke.

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Rof.

Rof. Nay, you were better speak firft, and when you were gravell'd 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 fhift is to kifs.

Orla. How if the kifs be denied?

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

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

Rof. Marry, that fhould you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Orla. What, of my fuit?

Rof. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your fuit. Am not I 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 almost 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 dafh'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, tho' Hero had turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midfummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash in the Hellefpont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was,Hero of Seftos. But these 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.

Rof. By this hand, it will not kill a flie; but come; now I will be your Rofalind in a more coming-on difpofition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it. Orla. Then love me, Rofalind.

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

Orla

Orla. And wilt thou have me?

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

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 say, Sifter?

Orla. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot fay the words,

Rof. You must begin, Will you, Orlando — Cel. Go to; will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rofalind?

Orla. I will.

Rof. Ay, but when?

Orla. Why now, as faft as fhe can marry us.

Rof. Then you must fay, I take thee Rofalind for wife.

Orla. I take thee Rofalind for wife.

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

Orla. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.

Rof. Now tell me, how long you would have her, after you have poffeft her.

Orla. For ever and a day.

Rof. 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-pidgeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more newfangled 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.

Orla. But will my Rosalind do fo?

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Rof

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 faft upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; fhut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; ftop that, it will fly with the fmoak out at the chimney.

Orla. A man that had a wife with fuch a wit, he might fay, Wit, whither wilt?

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 excufe that? Rof. Marry, to fay fhe came to feek you there: you 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, let her never nurse her child her felf, 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 must 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 yours won me; 'tis but one caft away, and fo come death: two o'th' clock is your hour!

Orla. Ay, fweet Rofalind.

Rof. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so 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 moft pathetical break-promife, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rofalind, that may be chofen out of the grofs band of the unfaithful; therefore beware my cenfure, and keep your promife.

Orla. With no lefs religion, than if thou wert in deed my Rofalind; so adieu.

Rof.

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