Clo. Moft fhallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good peice of flesh, indeed! learn of the wife and perpend; civet is of a bafer birth than tar; the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd..

Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll reft. Clo. Wilt thou reft damn'd? God help thee, shallow 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 happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is, to see 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 cuckoldly 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 fhould'ft 'scape.

Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganymed, my new mistrefs'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 fairest lin❜d,

Are but black to Rofalind;

Let no face be kept in mind,

But the face of Rofalind.

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

(14) If a hart doth lack a hind,
Let him feek out Rofalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So, be fure, will Rofalind.
Winter garments must be lin❜d,
So muft flender Rofalind.

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

Sweeteft nut hath fowreft rind

Such a nut is Rofalind.

He that sweeteft rose will find,

Muft find love's prick, and Rosalind.

This is the very false gallop of verfes; 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'll graff it with you, and then I shall 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 foreft judge.

Enter Celia, with a writing.

Rof. Peace, here comes my fifter reading; stand aside.
Cel. Why should this a defart be,

For it is unpeopled ? no;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That fhall civil fayings fhow.
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
That the stretching of a span

Buckles in his sum of age;

(14) If a bart doth lack a bind, &c.] The poet, in arraigning this Species of verfification, feems not only to fatirize the mode, that fo much prevail'd in his time, of writing fonnets and madrigals; but tacitly to fneer at the levity of Dr. Thomas Lodge, agrave physician in Queen Elizabeth's reign, who was very fertile of paftoral fongs; and who wrote a whole book of poems in the praise of his mistress, whom he calls Rofalind.

Some

'Twixt the fouls of friend and friend;
But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every fentence end,
Will I Rofalinda write:

Teaching all, that read, to know,
This quinteffence of every sprite

Heaven would in little fhow.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd,
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide enlarg'd;
Nature presently diftill'd
Helen's cheeks, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rofalind of many parts

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

To have the touches dearest priz'd.
Heav'n would that the these 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?

Cel. How now? back-friends! fhepherd, go off a lit. tle: Go with him, firrah.

Clo. Come, fhepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggae, yet with fcrip and fcrippage. [Exeunt Cor. and Clown.

Cel. Didft thou hear thefe 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 verfe.

1

Cel. But didft thou hear without wondring, how thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon these trees ?

Rof.

Rof. I was feven of the nine days out of wonder, before you came: For, look here, what I found on a palmtree; I was never fo be-rhymed fince Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. Cel. Tro 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, wonde ful, and moft wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping

Rof. (15) Odd's, my complexion! doft thou think, though I am caparifon'd like a man, I have a doublet and hofe in my difpofition? (16) 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't ftammer, 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 none at all. I pr'ythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.

(15) Good my complexion, doft thou think, &c.] This is a mode of expreffion, that I could not reconcile to common fenfe; I have therefore ventur'd by a flight change to read, Odd's, my complexion! fo, in another scene of this comedy, Rofalind again fays;

And again;

Odds,' my little life!

Odd's, my will !

Her love is not the bare that I do bunt.

(16) One inch of delay more is a South-fea of discovery ;] A South-fea of discovery: This is stark nonsense; we must read off discovery, i. e. from difcovery. "If you delay me one inch of time longer, I "fhall think this fecret as far from difcovery as the South-fea is."

Cel.

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 send 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 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 shall I do with my doublet and hofe? what did he, when thou faw'ft him? what said he how look'd he? wherein went he? what makes he here? did he afk for me? where remains he? how parted he with thee? and when shalt thou fee him again? anfwer 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: To fay, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechifm.

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 eafy 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.

Cel. Give me audience, good madam.

Rof. Proceed.

Cel. There lay he ftretch'd along like a wounded Knight. Rof.Though 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 furnish'd like a hunter.

Rof