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Corin. Not a whit, Touchstone: I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my

harm; and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs suck.

Touch. That is another simple sin in you ; to bring the ewes and rams together, and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-weather ; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crookedpated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see how else thou should'st 'scape.

Corin. Here comes young Mr. Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.

[They retire, L. Enter ROSALIND, L. U. E., taking a Paper from a Tree,

and reading
Ros. From the east to the western Inde,
No jewel is like Rosalind.

(Touchstone advances, R.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
All the pictures, fairest limned,
Are but black to Rosalind.
Let no face be kept in mind,

But the face of Rosalind. Touch. [Crosses, L.) I'll rhyme you so eight years to gether, dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rate to market. Ros. (R.) Out, fool! Touch. For a taste :

If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be sure, will Rosalind.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalind.
They that reap, must sheaf and bind;

Then to cart with Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses : Why do you infect yourself with them?

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; I found them on a tree. Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. [Retires, R.

Enter Celia, with a writing, R.
Ros. Peace !
Here comes my sister, reading! stand aside! (Retires, R.
Cel. Why should this a desert be?

For it is unpeopled ? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,

That shall civil sayings show.
Some, how brief the lite of man

Runs his erring pilgrimage ;
That the stretching of a span

Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend;
But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write ;

Teaching all that read, to know
This quintessence of every sprite

Heaven would in a little show.
Therefore Heaven nature charged,

That one body should be filled
With all graces wide enlarged :

Nature presently distilled
Helen's cheek, but not her heart;

Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part ;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind, of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised :

[Rosalind advances behind Celia. Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest prized,
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,

And I to live and die her slave. Ros. Oh, most gentle Jupiter !-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, “ Have patience, good people !"

Cel. How now ! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little ;-Go with him, sirrah.

too;

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable re. treat ; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exeunt Corin and Touchstone, L.

Cel. (L. c.) Didst thou hear these verses ?

Ros. (R. c.) Oh, yes, I heard them all, and more, for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

Cel. But didst thou hear, without wondering, how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of wonder, be. fore you came; for look here, what I found on a palmtree.

Cel. Trow you who hath done this ?
Ros. Is it a man ?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: change you colour ?

Ros. I pr’ythee, who?

Cel. O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it? Nay, I pr’ythee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who is it?

Cel. Oh, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping!

Ros. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition ? What manner of man ? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard ?

Cel. Nay, he hath but little beard.

Ros. Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.

Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant.

Ros. Nay, but the devil lake mocking.
Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Ros. Orlando ?
Cel. Orlando.

Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose ? What did he, when thou saw'st him? What said he ? How looked he ? Wherein went he? What

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makes he here ? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again ? Answer me in one word.

Cel. Thou must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled ?

Cel. It is as easy to count atomies, as to resolve the propositions of a lover :--but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under an oak tree, like a dropped acorn. Ros. It

may

well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. He was furnished like a hunter. Ros. Oh, ominous ! he comes to kill my

heart. Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : thou pring'st me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on

Enter JAQUES and ORLANDO, L.
Cel. You bring me out :-Soft, comes he not here?
Ros. 'Tis he : slink by and note him.

[Celia and Rosalind retire back on R. Jaques. (r. c.) I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Orl. (L. c.) And so had 1; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.

Jaques. Heaven be with you ! let's meet as little as Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers.

Jaques. I pray you, mar no more trees, with writing love-songs on their barks.

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses, with reading them ill-favouredly. Jaques. Rosalind is

your

love's name ? Ori. Yes, just. Jaques. I do not like her name.

we can.

of

found you.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christened.

Jaques. What stature is she of?
Orl. Just as high as my heart.

Jaques. You are full of pretty answers : Have you nol been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them out of rings ?- Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistresses, the world, and all our misery.

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.

Jaques. The worst fault you have is, to be in love.

Orl. 'Tis a fault I would not change for your best virtue. I am weary

you. Jaques. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I

Orl. He is drowned in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaques. There I shall see mine own figure.
Orł. Which I take to be either a fool or a cypher.
Jaques. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell

, good Signior Love!

(Exit, R. Orl. I'm glad of your departure; adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy !

[Rosalind comes forward. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him. (R. c.) Do you hear, forester ?

Orl. (L. c.) Very well; what would you ?
Ros. I pray you, what is't o'clock ?

Orl. You should ask me, what time o’day; there's no clock in the forest.

Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock.

Orl. And why not the swift foot of time ? had not that been as proper ? Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers

paces with divers persons : I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.

Orl. I pr’ythee, whom doth he trot withal ?
Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between

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