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she'll fall in love with my anger: If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words.- Why look you so upon me? Phe. For no ill will I bear

you. Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine: Besides, I like you not: If you will know my house, 'Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by :Will you go, sister ?-Shepherd, ply her hard :Come, sister :-Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud; though all the world could

see, None could be so abus’d in sight as he.* Come, to our flock.

[Exeunt Rosalind, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of

might;
Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight ?

Sil. Sweet Phebe,-
Phe.

Ha! what say'st thou, Silvius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; If you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love, your sorrow and my grief Were both extermin'd. Phe. Thou hast my love ; Is not that neigh

bourly? Sil. I would have you. Phe.

Why, that were covetousness. Silvius, the time was, that I hated thee;

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though all the world could see, None could be so abus'd in sight as he.] Though all mankind could look on you, none could be so deceived as to think you beautiful but he. Johnson. * Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw of might ;

Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?] The second of these lines is from Marlowe's Hero and Leander, 1637.

And

yet it is not, that I bear thee love: But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure; and I'll employ thee too: But do not look for further recompense, Than thine own gladness that thou art employ’d.

Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love, , And I in such a poverty

of

grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me

ere while ? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds, That the old carlot' once was master of.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for

him ;

'Tis but a peevish boy :'-yet he talks well ;But what care I for words ? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that

hear. It is a pretty youth :--not very pretty : But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes

him : He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him Is bis complexion ; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not tall ; yet for his years he's tall : His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well : There was a pretty redness in his lip; A little riper and more lusty red

5 That ihe old carlot - ) i.e. peasant, from carl or churl; probably a word of Shakspeare's coinage.

- a peevish boy.] Peerish, in ancient language, signifies trak, silly.

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the dif

ference Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd

him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him: but, for my part, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him: For what had he to do to chide at me? He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; And, now I am remember'd, scorn’d at me? I marvel, why I answer'd not again : But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. I'll write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius ? Sil. Phebe, with all

my

heart. Phe.

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

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The same.

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and JAQUES. Jaq. I prythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.

Rós. 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.

Ros. 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 politick; 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 sundry contemplation of my travels, in which

my

often rumination wraps me, is a most humorous sad

ness.

Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear, you have sold your own lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.

Enter ORLANDO. Ros. 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.

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind !

Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse.

[Erit. Ros. Farewell, 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 !

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which is nice ;] i. e. silly, trifling,
disable-] i. e. undervalue.

swam in a gondola.] That is, been at Venice, the seat at that time of all licentiousness, where the young English gentle

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where have you been all this while? You a lover?An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

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

Ros. 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 said of him, that Cupid hath clap'd him o'the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight; I had as lief be wood of a snail.

Ori. Of a snail ?

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

Orl. 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 slander of his wife.

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.

Ros. And I am your Rosalind.

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

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

)

men wasted their fortunes, debased their morals, and sometimes lost their religion.

a Rosalind of a better leer than you.] i. e. of a better feature, complexion, or colour, than you.

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