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off 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 not 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?
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. 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 he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.
? One inch of delay more is a South-sea-off discovery.] The old copy reads, and Mr. Malone adheres to it—is a South-sea of discoverie : which, says Mr. Henderson, is the only reading that can preserve the sense of Rosalind. A South-sea of discovery, is not a discovery, as FAR OFF, but as COMPREHENSIVE as the South-sea ; which, being the largest in the world, affords the widest scope for exercising curiosity.
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 Wherein went he ?] In what manner was he clothed? How did he go dressed ?
Cel. You 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 a good observance. I found him 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.
Cel. There lay he, stretched 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.
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, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. Cel. You bring me out:-Soft! comes he not here?
Garagantua's mouth –] 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. Johnson.
to count atomies,] Atomies are those minute particles discernible in a stream of sunshine that breaks into a darkened room. HENLEY.
Cry, holla! to thy tongue,] Holla was a term of the manège, by which the rider restrained and stopp'd bis horse.
to kill my heart.] A quibble between heart and hart.
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.
Orl. 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. Ori. I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees, with writing lovesongs in their barks.
Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with read ing them ill-favouredly.
Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.
Jaq. What stature is she of?
Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn’d them out of rings?
Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth®, from whence you have studied your questions.
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.
Ori. 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.
Orl. '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
but I answer you right painted cloth,] 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.
Orl. He is drown'd in the brook ; look but in, and you shall see him.
Jag. There shall I see mine own figure.
Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you; farewell, good signior love.
Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy.
[Exit JAQUES.—Celia and ROSALIND 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?
Orl. Very well ; what would you ?
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, 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.
Orl. 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 he feels no pain: the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury: These time ambles withal.
Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ?
Ros. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
Orl. Who stays it still withal ?
Ros. With lawyers in the vacation : for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves.
Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ?
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
Orl. Are you native of this place?
Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell where she is kindled.
Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removedo a dwelling.
Ros. I have been told so of many: but, indeed, an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an in-land man'; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it; and I thank God, I am not a woman to be touch'd with so many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole sex withal.
Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils, that he laid to the charge of women ?
Ros. There were none principal; they were all like one another, as half-pence are: every one fault seeming monstrous, till his fellow fault came to match it.
Orl. I pr’ythee, recount some of them.
Ros. No; I will not cast away my physick, but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies
removed - ] i. e. remote, sequestered.
in-land man;] Is used in this play for one civilized, in opposition to the rustick of the priest.