Some of violated vows, 'Twixt the fouls of friend and friend; Or at every fentence end, Teaching all, that read, to know, To have the Touches dearest priz'd. Heav'n would that she thefe gifts fhould have, what tedious ho Rof. O moft gentle Juniper! mily of love have you wearied your Parishioners withal, and never cry'd, have patience, good people? Cel. How now? back-friends! fhepherd, go off a little: go with him, firrah. Clo. Come, fhepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; tho' not with bag and baggage, yet with fcrip and fcrippage. [Exeunt Cor. and Clown. 60 most gentle JUPITER!] We should read JUNIPER, as the following words fhew, alluding to the proverbial term of a Juniper lecture: A fharp or unpleafing one; Juniper being a rough prickly plant. SCENE VÍ. Cel. Didft thou hear these verses? Rof. O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for fome of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses. Rof. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verfe, and therefore stood lamely in the verse. Cel. But didit thou hear without wondring, how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon these trees? Rof. I was feven of the nine days out of wonder, before you came: for, look here, what I found on a palm-tree; I was never fo be-rhimed fince Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Cel. Trow you, who hath done this? Rof. Is it a man? Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour? Rof. 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 fo encounter. Rof. Nay, but who is it? Cel. Is it poffible? Rof. Nay, I pr'ythee 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 Rof. Good my complexion! doft thou think, 7 Good my complexion !] This is a mode of expreffion, Mr. Theobald says, which he cannot reconcile to common fenfe. Like enough: and fo too the Oxford Editor. But the meaning is, Hold good my complexion, i. e. let me not blush. though 8 though I am caparifon'd like a man, I have a doublet and hofe in my difpofition? One inch of delay more is a South-fea off difcovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it; quickly, and fpeak apace; I would thou could'st stammer, that thou might'ft 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. Rof. 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. Rof. Why, God will fend more, if the man will be thankful; let me ftay 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 wreftler's heels and your heart both in an inftant. Rof. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak, fad brow, and true maid. Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he. Cel. Orlando. Rof. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hofe? what did he, when thou faw'ft him? what faid 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 fhalt thou see him again? answer me in one word. Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth firft; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's fize: to fay, ay, and no, to thefe particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism. 8 One inch of delay more is a South-fea of difcovery.] This is ftark nonfenfe; we must read -off discovery, i. e. from dif covery. "If you delay me one inch of time longer, I fhall "think this fecret as far from discovery as the South-fea is." Rof. But doth he know that I am in this Foreft, and in man's apparel? looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? Cel. It is as eafie to count atoms, as to refolve the propofitions of a lover: but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good obfervance. 'I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn. Rof. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth fuch fruit. Čel. Give me audience, good Madam. Cel. There lay he ftrech'd along like a wounded Knight. Rof. Tho' it be pity to see fuch a fight, it well becomes the ground. Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets unfeasonably. He was furnifh'd like a hunter. Rof. Oh, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. Cel. I would fing my fong without a burthen; thou bring'ft me out of tune. Rof. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak: Sweet, fay on. 9 I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.] We should read, Under AN QAK tree. This appears from what follows-like a dropp'd acorn. For how did he look like a dropp'd acorn unless he was found under an oakAnd from Rofalind's reply, that it might well be called Jove's tree: For the Oak was facred to Jove. tree. Faq. Faq. "I thank you for your company; but, good "faith, I had as lief have been my self alone. Orla. "And fo had I; but yet for fashion fake, I "thank you too for your fociety. Jaq. "God b'w' you, let's meet as little as we can. Orla. "I do defire we may be better strangers. Faq. "I pray you, marr no more trees with writing "love-fongs in their barks. Orla. I pray you, marr no more of my Verfes with "reading them ill-favouredly." Faq. Rofalind, is your love's name? Jaq. I do not like her name. Orla. There was no thought of pleasing you, when fhe was chriften'd. Jaq. What ftature is the of? Orla. Juft as high as my heart. Faq. You are full of pretty anfwers; have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths wives, and conn'd them out of rings? Orla. Not fo: but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have ftudied your queftions. Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think, it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you fit 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 my felf, against whom I know most faults. Jaq. The worft 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. But I answer you right painted cloth.] This alludes to the fashion, in old painted hangings, of motto's and moral fentences from the mouths of the figures. The poet again hints at these in his poem, call'd, Tarquin and Lucrece: Who fears a fentence, or an old man's faw, Mr. Theobald. Faq. |