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Died in this blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.


mede ?

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany[Ros. faints. Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.

Cel. There is more in it.-Cousin-Ganymede! Oli. Look, he recovers.

Ros. I would, I were at home.


We'll lead you thither.

pray you, will you take him by the arm? Oli. Be of good cheer, youth.-You a man ? You lack a man's heart.

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would think this was well counterfeited : I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited.—Heigh ho!

Oli. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion of earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Ros. So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right.

Cel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

Ros. I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go



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The same.


Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.

Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey; a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean.


Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for: we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. Wil. Good even, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good even, William.

Wil. And good even to you, sir.

Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?

Wil. Five and twenty, sir.

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ?

Wil. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here?

Wil. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Touch. Thank God;'.


Wil. Faith, sir, so so.

a good answer. Art

Touch. So so,' is good, very good, very excellent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?

Wil. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

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Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a saying; The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?

Wil. I do, sir.

Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned? Wil. No, sir?

Touch. Then learn this of me: To have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other: for all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; now you are not ipse, for I am he.

Wil. Which he, sir?

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman : therefore, you clown, abandon.-which is in the vulgar, leave, the society, which in the boorish

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