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wife and perpend; civet is of a baser birth than tarr ; the very uncleanly flux of a cat.. Mend the inftance, fhepherd.

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll rest.

Clo. Wilt thou reft damn'd? God help thee, fhallow man; God make incifion in thee, thou art raw.

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer, I earn that I eat; get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's happinefs; glad of other mens good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is, to fee my ewes graze, and my lambs fuck.

Clo. That is another fimple fin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together; and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be a bawd to a bell-weather; and to betray a fhe lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old cuckoldy ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou be'ft not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no fhepherds; I cannot fee elfe how thou should'st 'scape.

Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganimed, my new miftrefs's brother.

Enter Rofalind, with a paper.

Rof. From the east to western Inde,

No jewel is like Rofalind.

Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rofalind.
All the pictures, faireft lin'd,

Are but black to Rofalind

Let no face be kept in mind,

But the face of Rosalind.

Clo. I'll rhime you fo, eight years together; dinners, and fuppers, and fleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-women's rank to market.

Rof. Out, fool!

Clo. For a taste.

If a bart doth lack a binds

Let him feek out Rofalind.

If the cat will after kind,
So, be fure, will Rofalind.
Winter garments must be lin'd,
So muft fender Rotalind.

They, that reap, muft fheaf and bind;
Then to Cart with Rofalind.

Sweeteft nut bath forwreft rind,
Such a nut is Rofalind.

He that fweeteft rose will find,

Muft find love's prick, and Rofalind.

This is the very falfe gallop of verses; why do you infect yourself with them?

Rof. Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.
Clo. Truly the tree yields bad fruit.

Rof. I'l graff it with you, and then I fhall graff it with a medler; then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medler.

Clo. You have faid; but whether wifely or no, let the Forest judge.

Enter Celia, with a writing.

Rof. Peace, here comes my Sifter reading; ftand afide.

Cel. Why Should this a Defart be,
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That fall civil fayings show.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;

That the ftretching of a span

Buckles in bis fum of age;

Some of violated vows,

'Twixt the fouls of friend and friend;

But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every fentence end,

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By heav'nly fynod was devis'd;
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the Touches dearest priz'd.
Heav'n would that she thefe gifts should have,
And I to live and die her flave.

Rof. O moft gentle Jupiter! - what tedious homily of love have you wearied your Parishioners withal, and never cry'd, have patience, good people?

Gel. 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.

Cel. Didit 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 verfes.

Rof. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verfe, and therefore ftood lamely in the verse.

Cel. But didft 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

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?

Ros. Is it a man ?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck: Change you colour?

Rof. I pr'ythee, who?

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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 moft 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. Odd's, my complexion! doft thou think, though I am caparifon'd like a man, I have a doublet and hole in my difpofition? (6) One inch of delay more is a South-fea off discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is. it; quickly, and, fpeak apace; I would thou could'ft ftammer, that thou might'ft pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrowmouth'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.

(6) One Inch of Delay more is a Soutb-fea of Discovery ;] A South-fea of Difcovery: This is ftark Nonsense; We must read off Difcovery, i. e. from Discovery. "If you delay 66 me one Inch of Time longer, I fhall think this Secret as far "from Discovery as the South-fea is,"

Cal

Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant.

Rof. Nay, but the devil take mocking; fpeak, fad brow, and true maid.

Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.

Rof. Orlando!

Cel. Orlando.

Rof. Alas the day, what fhall 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 shalt thou fee him again? answer me in one word.

Cel. You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's fize: ta fay, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.

Rof. 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 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 fove's tree, when it drops forth fuch fruit.

Cel. Give me audience, good Madam.

Rof. Proceed.

Cel. There lay he stretch'd along like a wounded Knight.

Rof. Tho' it be pity to fee 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.

Enter

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