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Therefore heaven nature charg'd,
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
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 devis'd;

Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest priz'd.3

Heaven would that she these gifts should havé,
And I to live and die her slave.

Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cry'd, Have patience, good people!

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

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exe. CORIN and TOUCHSTONE

Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?

Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.

Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.

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

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

[1] I know not well what could be the better part of Atalanta bere ascribed to Rosalind. Of the Atalanta most celebrated, and who therefore must be intended here where she has no epithet of discrimination, the better part seems to have been her heels, and the worse part so bad that Rosalind would not thank her lover for the comparison. There is a more obscure Atalanta, a huntress and a heroine, but of her nothing bad is recorded, and therefore I know not which was her better part. JOHNSON.

I think this stanza was formed on an old tetrastrick epitaph, which I have read in

a country church-yard:

She who is dead, and sleepeth in this tomb,

"Had Rachel's comely face, and Leah's fruitful womb:
"Sarah's obedience, Lydia's open heart,
"And Martha's care, and Mary's better part."

WHALLEY.

[3] Sad, grave, sober, not light. [3] Touches,-features; les traits. JOHNS

tree I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.* 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?

Cel. Is it possible?

Ros. Nay, I pray thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.

Cel. O 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 caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-seaoff discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it? quickly, and speak apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.

Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.

Ros. Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?

[4] Rosalind is a very learned lady. She alludes to the Pythagorean doctrine, which teaches that souls transmigrate from one animal to another, and relates that in his time she was an Irish rat, and by some metrical charm was rhymed to death. The power of killing rats with rhymes Donne mentions in his Satires, and Temple in his Treatises. Dr. Gray has produced a similar passage from Randolph:

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-My poets

"Shall with a satire, steep'd in gall and vinegar,

" Rhyme them to death as they do rats in Ireland.”

JOHNSON.

[5] This appears to have been a phrase of the same import as another formerly in use, " out of all cry" The latter seems to allude to the custom of giving notice by a crier of things to be sold. MALAD outery is still a provincial term for an auction. STEEVENS.

[6] Good my complexion! My native character, my female inquisitive disposition, canst thou endure this!-For thus characterizing the most beautiful part of the crea tion. let our port answer. MALONE.

[7] Every delay, however short, is to me tedious and irksome as the longest voyage, as a voyage of discovery on the South-sea. How much voyages to the South-sea, on which the English had then inst ventured, engaged the conversation of that time, may be easily imagined. JOHNSON.

'

Cel. Nay, he hath but a 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 tripp'd up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant.

Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and true maid.

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 look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains be? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.

Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first:9 '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 treshly 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 I found him him, and relish it with a good observance.

under a tree, like a dropp'd acorn.

Ros. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

Cel. Give me audience, good madam.

Ros. Proceed.

Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded knight. Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.

Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.

RITSON.

[8]- -speak sad brow, and true maid, i. e. speak with a grave countenance, and as truly as thou art a virgin; speak seriously and honestly. [9] Rosalind requires nine questions to be answered in one word. Celia tells her that a word of such magnitude is too big for any mouth but that of Garagantua the giant of Rabelais. JOHNS- -Garagantua swallowed five pilgrims, their staves and all, in a sallad. STEEVENS.

[1] Holla was a term of the manege, by which the rider restrained and stopp'd his horse. MALONE.

Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill my heart.

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

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

Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES.

Cel. You bring me out :-Soft! comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him.

[CELIA and ROSALIND retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Orla. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.

Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we can. Orla. I do desire we may be better strangers.

Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing lovesongs in their barks.

Örla. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?

Orla. Yes, just.

Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orla. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.

Jaq. What stature is she of?

Orla. Just as high as my heart.

Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

Orla. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth,* from whence you have studied your questions.

[2] This alludes to the fashion in old tapestry hangings, of mottos and moral sentences from the mouths of the figures worked or painted in them. THEOBALD. The rooms in public houses were usually hung with what Falstaff calls water-work. On these hangings, perhaps, moral sentences were depicted as issuing from the mouths of the different characters. STEEVENS.

I suppose Orlando means to say, that Jaques's questions have no more of novelty or shrewdness in them than the trite maxims of the painted cloth. The following lines, which are found in a book with this fantastic title.-No whipping nor tripping, but a friendly kind of snipping, 8vo. 1601, may serve as a specimen of painted cloth language:

"Read what is written on the painted cloth:
"Do no man wrong; be good unto the poor;
"Beware the mouse, the maggot and the moth..

"And ever have an eye unto the door;

"Trust not a fool, a villain, nor a whore:

"Go neat, not gay, and spend but as you spare ;

"And turn the colt to pasture with the mare," c MAL.

Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.

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

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

Orla. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

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

Orla. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure.

Orla. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher. Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good signior love. [Exit. Orla. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy. [CEL. and Ros. come forward. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him.-Do you hear, forester?

Orla. Very well; What would you?

Ros. I pray you, what is't a'clock?

Orla. 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.

Orla. 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.

Orla. I pr'ythee, who doth he trot withal?

Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight, time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years.

Orla. Who ambles time withal?

Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because

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