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






Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques.

JA QUE S. Pr’ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted

with thee. Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow. Jug. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing.

ROS. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern censure, worse than drunkards.

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

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation ; nor the musician's, which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is

polirick ; 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 simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my

travels, on which my often rumination wraps me in a moft humourous sadness.

Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad : I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see 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 me experience.


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

Orla. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind !

Yaq. Nay then--God b'w'y you, an you talk in blank verse.

[Exit. · Ros. Farewel, monsieur traveller : look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable 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 swam in a gondola. :—Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while ? You a lover ?-An you serve me such another crick, never come in my sight more.

Orla. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.

Rof. Break an hour's promise 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' the shoulder, but I'll warrant him heartwhole.

Orla. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Rof. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orla. Of a snail?

3 - swam in a gondola.] That is, been as Venice, the seat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentlemen wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes loft their religion.

The falhion of travelling, which prevailed very much in our author's time, was considered by the wiser men as one of the principal causes of corrupt manners. It was therefore gravely censured by Ascham in his schoolmaster, and by bishop Hall in his Quo Vadis ; and is here, and in other pastages, ridiculed by Shake{peare. JOHNsQN. X 3


Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes Nowly, he carries his house on his head ; a better jointure, I think, than you can make a woman; besides, he þrings his destiny with him.

Orla. What's that?

Ros. 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 Nander of his wife. Orla. Virtue is no horn-maker ; and


Rofalind is virtuous.

Rof. And I am your Rosalind. .

Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.

Ro. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holyday humour, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very Rosalind ?

Orla. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Rof. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravell’d for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers lacking (God warn us) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

Orla. How if the kiss be denied ?

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

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

Roj. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress ; or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.

Orla. What, of my suit?

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your fuit. Am not I your Rosalind ?

Orla. I take some joy to say, you are; because I would be talking of her. PS: Well, in her person, I say, I will not have you.


Orla. Then, in mine own person, I die.

Ros. 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-cause. Troilus had his brains dalh'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 midsummer night : for, good youth, he went but forth to wash in the Hellespont, 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 lyes; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

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

Rof. By this hand, it will not kill a fly:-But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition ; and ask me what you will, I will grant it.'

Orla. Then love me, Rosalind. Rof. Yes, faith will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all.

Orla. And wilt thou have me?
Ros. Ay, and twenty fuch,
Orla. What say'st thou ?
Rof. Are you not good ?
Orla. I hope so.

Rof. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, lister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando : What do you say, lister? Orla. Pray thee, marry us.

-chroniclers of that age.] Sir T. Hanmer reads, coroners, by the advice, as Dr. Warburton hints, of fome anonymous critick.




Cel. I cannot say the words.
Ref. You must begin, Will you, Orlando

Cel. Go to-Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?

Orla. I will.
Ros. Ay, but when?
Orla. Why now; as fast as she can marry us.

Rof. Then you must say, I take thee Rosalind for
Oria. I take thee Rosalind for wife.
Ros. I might alk


your commiflion ; 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.

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

Orle. 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-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; s I will laugh like a hyen, and that when you are inclin'd to sleep.

Orla. But will my Rosalind do so ?
Ros. By niy life, she will do as I da.

$I will laugh like a byen,) The bark of the hyena very much resembles a loud laugh. STEEVENS.

—and thot when you are inclin’d to SLEEP.) We should read, 19 WEEP. WARBURTON.

I know not why we should read so weep. I believe most mea would be more angry to have their Jeep hindered than their grief interrupted. JOHNSON.


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