Imatges de pÓgina
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Some of violated vows,

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend, But upon the faireft boughs,

,
Or at every fentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write;

Teaching all, that read, to know,
This quintessence of every fprite

Heaven would in little show.'
Therefore heaven nature charg'd,

That one body should be fillid.
With all graces wide enlarg'd;

Nature presently distillid
Helen's cheeks, but not her heart,

Cleopatra's majesty ;
Aralanta's better part;

Sad Lucretia's modefty.
Thus Rosalind 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 she these gifts should have;

And I to live and die her flave.

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Ros. O most gentle Jupiter !-what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners wichal, and never cry'd, have patience, good people!

Cel. How now; back-friends! shepherd, go off a lita tle: Go with him, firrah.

Clo. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with fcrip and scrippage.

[Exeuni Cor. and Clown. Cel. Didst thou hear these verless Roj. O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than che verses would bear..

Gel. That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses..

ROS. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, 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 ?

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Rol I was seven of the nine days out of wonder, before you came: For, look here, what I found on palma tree; I was never so be-rhimed fince Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irish rat, which can hardly remember.

Cel. Tro you, who hach 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, wha!

Cel. O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes,, and so encounter.

Rof. Nay, but who is it?
Cel. Is it possible?

Ref. 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

Rol: (15) Odd's, my complexion ! doft thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition: (16) One inch of delay more. is a South-sea off discovery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it; quickly, and speak apace; I would thou could'it fammer, that thou might'it pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a parrow. mouth'd bottle; either too much at once, or none at all. I proythee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may

drink thy tidings,

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(15) Good my complexion, dof thou think, &c.] This is a mode of expreffion, that I could not reconcile to common sense; I have therefore ventur" by a night change to read, Odd's, my complexion! fo, in another scene of this comedy, Rosalind again says; And again;

'Odd's, my will! Her love is not the bare that I do hunt. (16) One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery;] A fouth - sea of discovery: This is stark nonsense; we must read of discovery. i, e. from discovery. “If you delay me one inch of time longer I Mall think this secret aş far from discovery as the South-lea is.'

Cel.

Odd's, my

little life!

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 stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Cet

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

Rof. Nay, but the devil taks mocking; speak, fad brow, and true maid.

Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Rosi Orlando!
Cel. Orlando.

Rof. Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet and hose? what did he, when thou saw 'ft him? what faie he? how look'd he? wherein went he? what makes he here? did he ask for me? where remains her how parted: he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again ? ana fwer 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 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 atoms, as to resolve the propositions of a lover : But take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.

Rof. It may well be calld Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Rof. Proceed.
Cel. There lay be ftretch'd along like a wounded Knight.

Rof. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.

Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, 'priythee; it curvess unseasonably. He was furnith'd like a hunter.

Ref

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Ros. O ominous, he comes to kill my

heart. Cel. I would fing my fong without a burden ; thou bring'it me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman when I think,
I'must speak: sweet, fay on. :)

Enter Orlando and Jaques.
Cel.

6. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here?" Rof. 'Tis he; fick by and note him.

[Cel. and Rof. retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Orla. And so had I; but yet for fashion fake, I thank you too for your society.

Jaq. God b'w'you, let's meet as little as we can. 33rd Orla. I do defire we may be better strangers.

Jaq. I pray you, marr no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.

Orla (17). I pray you, marr no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaqu Rosalind, is your love's name?

Orla. Yes, just.
15 faqe I do not like her name.

Orla. There was no thought of pleasing you, when
The was chriften'd.

Jaq. What Itature is she of? Orla. Just as high as my heart. - Jag. You are full of pretty answers ; have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths wives, and connd them out of rings?

Orla. Not so: (18) but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have ftudied your queltions.

Jagi (17) I pray you, marr no more of my verses with reading tbem illfavouredly.) The poet seems to have had in his eye this diftich of Martial; Lib. I. Epigr. 39,

Quem recitas, meus.eft, o Fidentine, libellus ;),
Sed malè dum recitas, incipit effe tuus.

Com
(18) But I answer you rigbe painted cloth.] This alludes to the
Fashion, in old lapekry hangings, of motto's and moral fentences from

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found you.

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 againit our mistress, the world, and all oùr mifery.

Orla. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know moft 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

Orla. He is drown'd in the brook ; look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaq. There I Mall see mine own figure.
Oria. Which I take to be either a fool, or å cypher.

Jaq. I'll stay no longer with you ; farewel, good Signior love!

Orla. I am glad of your departure"; adieu, good Monsieur 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 should ask me, what time o' day; there's no clock in the forest.

Ref. Then there is no true lover in the forest ; else, fighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock.

Orla. And why not the swift foot of time? had not chat been as proper ?

Ros. By no means, Sir : time travels in divers paces, with divers persons; I'll tell you who time ambles withali who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he hands still withal ?

Orla. I pr’ythee, whom doth he trot withal ? 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 fawy
Sbali by a painted cloth be kept in awe.

ROS

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