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 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 fay'ft 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 shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, fifter?

Orla. Pray thee, marr 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.

Rof. Ay, but when?

Orla. Why now, as faft as she can marry us. Rof. Then you must fay, I take thee Rofalind for wife.

Orla. I take thee Rofalind for wife.

Rof. I might afk you for your commiffion, but I do take thee Orlando for my husband: there's a girl goes before the prieft, 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 would you have her, after you have poffefs'd her?

Orla. For ever and a day.

No, no, Or

Rof. Say a day, without the ever. lando men are April when they woo, December when they 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-pidgeon

Að 1V. 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 weep. Orla. But will my Rofalind do fo?

Ref. By my life, fhe will do as I do.
Orla. O, but the 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; stop 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 ?

Raf. 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? Ref. Marry, to fay fhe came to feek you there: you hall 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 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 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 your's won me; 'tis but one caft away, and fo come death. Two o' th'clock is your hour!

Orla. Ay, Sweet Rofalind.

Rof. By my troth, and in good earnest, 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 atheistical break-promife, and the most hollow lover, and the moft 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 indeed my Rofalind; fo adieu.

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

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 didit 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. O rather, bottomlefs; that as fast as you pour affection in it, it runs out.

Rof. No, that fame wicked baftard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of fpleen, and born of madness; that blind rafcally boy, that abufes every one's eyes, becaufe 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 fight of Orlando ; I'll go fhadow, and figh till he come.

Cel. And I'll fleep.

find a

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Enter Jaques, Lords, and Forefters.

Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer?

Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's prefent 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 purpofe?

For. Yes, Sir.

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

Mufic, Song.

What shall be have that kill'd the deer?
His leather fkin and horns to wear ;

bear this burthen.

Then fing him home :-take thou no fcorn > The rest shall
To wear the horn, the horn, the horn:
It was a creft ere thou waft born.
Thy father's father wore it,

And thy father bore it ;

The born, the horn, the lufty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to fcorn.

[Exeunt.

Enter Rofalind and Celia.

Rof. How fay you now, is it not past two o'clock? I wonder much Orlando is not here.

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.

this :

Syl. My errand is to you, fair youth,
My gentle Phebe bid me give you
I know not the contents; but, as I guess,
By the ftern brow and wafpish action
Which she did ufe as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenor; pardon me,

1 am but as a guiltlefs meffenger.

Rof. Patience herself would startle 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 fhe could not love me
Were man as rare as phoenix: 'odds my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.

Why writes the fo to me? Well, fhepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

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

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

And turn'd into th' extremity of love.

I faw her hand, fhe has a leathern hand,

A free-ftone-colour'd 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, she 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 ftyle, A ftyle for challengers; why, fhe 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 fhepherd 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 to me.
Meaning me a beast!

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 feal 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 ftudy how to die.

Syl. Call you this chiling?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd !

Rof. Do you pity him? no, he deferves no pity. Wilt thou love fuch a woman? what, to make thee an inftrument, and play false strains upon thee? not to be endured! Well, go your way to her; (for I fee love hath made thee a tame fnake), and fay this to her, That if he love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will