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This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect yourself with them?
Ros. Peace, you dull fool ; I found them on a tree. Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graft it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit in the country; for you'll be rotten e'er you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar,
Touch. You have said ; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.
Enter Celia, reading a Paper.
For it is unpeopled ? No;
That shall civil sayings show.
Runs his erring pilgrimage ;
Búckles in his sum of age.
"Twixt the souls of friend and friend.
Or at every sentence end,
Teaching all that read to know ?
Heaven would in little show.
That one body should be fill'd
Nature presently distill'd
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
By heavenly synod was devised ;
To have the touches * dearest prized,
And I to live and die her slave. Ros. O most gentle Jupiter!-What tedious homily of
love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, Have patience, good people!.
Cel. How now! Back friends :-Shepherd go off a little :-Go with him, sirrah.
Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
(Exeunt Corin and Touchstone. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?
Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear,
Cel. 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 didst thou hear, without wondering how thy name should be hang'd and carved upon these trees 3
Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder, before you came ; for look here what I found on a palm-tree: I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel. Trow you, who hath done this?
Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck ;-Change you colour? Ros. I prythee, who?
Cel. O lord, lord ! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earth. quakes, and so encounter. Ros. Nay, but who is it? Cel. Is it possible ?
Ros. Nay, I pray thee 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*!
Ros. Good my complexion ! Dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea-off discovery. I prythee, tell me, who is it ? Quickly, and speak apace :-I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st. pour this conceal'd man out of thy mouth, as wine eomes out of a narrow-mouth'd
either too much at once or none at all. I prythee take the
cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros. 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.
Ros. 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.
Cel. It is young Orlando; that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in an instant.
Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak sad brow, and rue maid ..
Cel. I' faith, coz, 'tis he.
Ros. Alas the day! What shall I do with my doublet and hose ?- What did he, when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein went het? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see 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 size :-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 atomies y, as to resolve the propositions of a lover : but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with a good observance. I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.
Ros. It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded knight.
Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
Cel. Cry, holla! To thy tongue, I prøythee; it curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter,
Ros. O ominous! He comes to kill my heart.
Cel, I would sing my song without a burden : thou bring'st me out of tune.
Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.
Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. Cel. You bring me out:-Soft ! Comes he not here? Ros. Tis he; slink by, and note him.
(Celia and Rosalind retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion-sake, I thank you too for your society.
Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we can. Ori. I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks.
Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.
Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Ori. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.
Jaq. What stature is she of?' Ori. Just as high as my heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty answers :-Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings ?
Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth*, from whence you have studied your questions.
Jaq. You have a nimble wit ; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? And we too will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery,
Orl. I will chidē no breather in the world, but myself ; against whom I know most faults.
Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love.
Ori. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.
Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I found you.
Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you shall see him.
• An allusion to the moral sentences on old tapes. try hangings.
Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure.
Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell, good signior love.
Orl. I am glad of your departure : adieu, good monsieur melancholy.
[Exit Jaques.-Celia and Rosalind come forward. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lackquey, and under that habit play the knave with him, Do you hear, forester?
Orl. Very well; what would you? Ros. I pray you, what is't clock? Orl. You should ask me, what time o'day; there's no clock in the forest.
Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute, and groaning every hour, would
detect the lazy foot of time, as well as a clock. Orl. And why not the swift foot of time ? Had not that been as proper ?
Ros. By no means, Sir : time travels in divers paces with divers persons : I'll tell you who time ambles withal, who time trots withal, who time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.
Ori. I prythee, who doth he trot withal ?
Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid, between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years. -Orl. Who ambles time withal ?
Ros. With a priest that lacks latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout: for the one sleeps, easily, because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain : the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning; the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury : these time ambles withal.
Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ?
Ros. With a thief to the gallows : for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
Orl. Who stays it still withal ?
Ros. With lawyers in the vacation : for 'they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how time moves. Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth?
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
Ori. Are you native of this place?