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dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted: it is the right butter-woman's rank to market.
Ros. Out, fool!
If a hart do lack a hind,
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 graff 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.
Cel. Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled ? No;
That shall civil" sayings show.
Runs his erring pilgrimage;
Buckles in his sum of age.
'Twirt 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 distilld
Cleopatra's majesty ;
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
By heavenly synod was devis'd;
To have the touches 2 dearest priz'd.
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 cry'd, 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 yerses.
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 ?
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 pr'ythee, who?
to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.
Ros. Nay, but who is it?
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 !3
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 pr’ythee, tell me, who is it? quickly, and speak apace : I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of 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.
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 true maid. 4
3 Out of all measure.
4 Speak seriously and honestly,
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 he? 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 6 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," 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 callid Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good madam. it. Ros. Proceed.
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 pr’ythee; it
5 How was he dressed ? 6 The giant of Rabelais.