1 Enter Orlando and Jaques. Cel. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here? [Cel. and Rof. retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been my felf 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. Jag. I pray you, marr no more trees with writing love fongs in their barks. Orla. I pray you, marr no more of my Verses with reading them ill-favouredly! Faq. Rofalind, is your love's name? Orla. Yes, juft. Jaq. I do not like her name. Orla. There was no thought of pleasing you, when fhe was chriften'd. Jaq. What ftature is she of? Orla. Juft as high as my heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty anfwers; have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths wives, and conn'd them out of rings? Orla. Not fo: (7) but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your queftions. Faq. You have a nimble wit; I think, it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you fet down with me, and we two will rail against our mistress, the world, and all our misery. (7) 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 work'd or painted in them. The Poet again hints at this Custom in his Poem, call'd, Tarquin and Lucrece: Who fears a Sentence, or an Old Man's Saw, Orla. Orla. I will chide no breather in the world but my felf, against whom I know most faults. Jaq. The worst 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. Jaq. By my troth, I was feeking for a fool, when I found you. Orla. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him. faq. There I fhall fee mine own figure. Orla. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher. Jaq. I'll ftay no longer with you; farewel, good Signior love! [Exit. Orla. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good Monfieur melancholy! [Cel. and Rof. come forward. Rof. I will speak to him like a fawcy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him: do you hear, forefter ? Orla. Very well; what would you? Rof. I pray you, what is't a clock? Orla. You fhould ask me, what time o'day; there's no clock in the Foreft. Rof. Then there is no true lover in the Foreft; elfe, fighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock. Orla. And why not the fwift foot of time? had not that been as proper? Raf. By no means, Sir: time travels in divers paces, with divers perfons; I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands ftill withal? Orla. I pr'ythee, whom doth he trot withal? Rof. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the day it is folemniz'd if the interim be but a fennight, time's pace is fo hard that it feems the length of feven years, : Orla. Who ambles time withal? Rof. With a priest that lacks Latine, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one fleeps eafily, because he cannot ftudy; and the other lives merrily, be caufe cause he feels no pain: the one lacking the burthen of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burthen of heavy tedious penury. These time ambles withal. Orla. Whom doth he gallop withal? Raf. With a thief to the gallows: for though he go as foftly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too foon there. Orla. Whom ftays it still withal? Rof. With lawyers in the vacation; for they fleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves. Orla. Where dwell you, pretty youth? Rof. With this fhepherdefs, my fifter; here in the skirts of the foreft, like fringe upon a petticoat. Orla. Are you native of this place? Rof. As the cony, that you fee dwell where she is kindled. Orla. Your accent is fomething finer, than you could purchase in fo removed a dwelling. Rof. I have been told fo of many; but, indeed, an old religious Uncle of mine taught me to fpeak, 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; I thank God, I am not a woman, to be touch'd with fo many giddy offences as he hath generally tax'd their whole fex withal. Orla. Can you remember any of the principal evils, that he laid to the charge of women? Rof. There were none principal, they were all like one another, as half pence are; every one fault feeming monftrous, 'till his fellow fault came to match it. Orla. I pr'ythee, recount fome of them. Rof. No; I will not caft away my phyfick, but on those that are fick. There is a man haunts the Foreft, that abuses our young Plants with carving Rofalind on their barks; hangs Odes upon hawthorns, and Elegies on brambles; all, forfooth, deifying the name of Rofalind. If I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him fome good counfel, for he feems to have the Quotidian of love upon him. Orla. Orla. I am he, that is fo love-fhak'd ; I pray you, me your remedy. tell Rof. There is none of my Uncle's marks upon you; he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes, I am fure, you are not prisoner. Orla. What were his marks? Rof. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and funken, which you have not; an unquestionable fpirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for fimply your Having in beard is a younger Brother's revenue; then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your fleeve unbutton'd, your fhoo untied, and every thing about you demonftrating a careless defolation; but you are no fuch man, you are rather pointdevice in your accoutrements, as loving your felf, than feeming the lover of any other. Orla. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. Rof. Me believe it? you may as foọn make her, that you love, believe it; which, I warrant, fhe is apter to do, than to confefs fhe does; that is one of the points, in the which women still give the lie to their confciences. But, in good footh, are you he that hangs the Verses on the trees, wherein Rofalind is so admired? Orla. I fwear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rofalind, I am That he, that unfortunate he. Rof. But are you so much in love, as your rhimes speak? Orla. Neither rhime nor reason can exprefs how much. : Rof. Love is meerly a madness, and, I tell you, deferves as well a dark hoúfe and a whip, as mad men do and the reafon why they are not fo punish'd and cured, is, that the lunacy is fo ordinary, that the whippers are in love too: yet I profefs curing it by counfel. Orla. Did you ever cure any fo? Rof. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress: and I fet him every day to wooe me. At which time would I, being but a moonish moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantaftical, apifh, fhallow, inconftant, full of tears, full of fmiles; for every paffion fomething, and for no paffion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loath him; then entertain him, then forfwear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my fuitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour of madness; which was, to forfwear the full ftream of the world, and to live in a nook meerly monaftick; and thus I cur'd him, and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clear as a found fheep's heart, that there shall not be one fpot of love in't. Orla. I would not be cur'd, youth. Rof. I would cure you if you would but call me Rofalind, and come every day to my cotte, and wooe me. Orla. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; tell me where it is. Ro. Go with me to it, and I will fhew it you; and, by the way, you fhall tell me where in the Foreft you live will you go? : Orla. With all my heart, good youth. Rof. Nay, nay, you must call me Rofalind: come, fifter, will you go? Enter Clown, Audrey and Jaques. [Exeunt. Clo. Come apace, good Audrey, I will fetch up your goats, Audrey; and now, Audrey, am I the man yet? doth my fimple feature content you? Aud. Your features, lord warrant us! what features ? Clo. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet honeft Ovid was among the Goths. Jaq. knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatch'd house! Clo. When a man's verfes cannot be understood, nor a man's good Wit feconded with the forward child, Understanding; it ftrikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room; truly, I would the Gods had made thee poetical. Aud. |