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But do not look for further recompense,
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd.
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon.
Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me
erewhile?

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft:
And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds,
That the old carlot' once was master of.

Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him;
'Tis but a peevish boy:--yet he talks well;-
But what care I for words? yet words do well,
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth :-not very pretty :-
But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes

him:

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Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd
him

In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but, for my part,
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet

I have more cause to hate him than to love him:
For what had he to do to chide at me?

He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black;
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me :

I marvel, why I answer'd not again;
But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.
I'll write to him a very taunting letter,

And thou shalt bear it; Wilt thou, Silvius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.
Phe.

I'll write it straight;
The matter's in my head, and in my heart:
I will be bitter with him, and passing short:
Go with me, Silvius.

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. The same. Enter ROSALIND, Ce-
LIA and JAQUES.

Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.

Ros. They say, you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. I am so; do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those that are in extremity of either, are abominable fellows; and betray themselves to every modern3 censure, worse than drunkards.

Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad; I fear you have sold your own lands, to see other men's; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.

Enter ORLANDO.

rather have a fool to make me merry, than experi Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had ence to make me sad; and to travel for it too.

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind! Jaq. Nay then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. [Exit.

Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits: disable all the benenativity, and almost chide God for making you that fits of your own country; be out of love with your have swam in a countenance you are; or I will scarce think you gondola.-Why, bow now, Orlan do! where have you been all this while? You a lover?-An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my_promise.

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him, that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' the shoulder, but I war

rant him heart-whole.

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail. Orl. Of a snail?

Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head: a better jointure, I think, than you can make a woman: Besides, he brings his destiny with him.

Orl. What's that?

Ros. Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholden to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wife.

is virtuous.
Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind

Ros. And I am your Rosalind.

Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.

Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour, and like enough to consent: What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?

Öri. I would kiss, before I spoke.

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking (God warn us!) matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.

Orl. How if the kiss be denied?

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your misnor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the law-tress; or I should think my honesty ranker than yer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects; and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels; which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness."

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my wit.

Orl. What, of my suit?

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?

Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her.

Ros. Well, in her person, I say-I will not have

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Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole: stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world 's almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before; and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsuminer night: for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Helles-bed. pont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drowned; and the foolish chroniclers' of that age found it was-Hero of Sestos. But these are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love

Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me.

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it.

Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say,-Wit, whither wilt? Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? Ros. Marry, to say, she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her ans wer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her hus band's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool.

6

,

Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave

thee.

Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two

Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, o'clock I will be with thee again. and all.

Orl. And wilt thou have me?

Ros. Ay, and twenty such.
Orl. What say'st thou?

Ros. Are you not good?

Orl. I hope so.

Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;-I knew what you would prove; my friends told me as much, and I thought no less-that flattering tongue of yours won me :-'tis but one cast away, and so, come, death.-Two o'clock is your hour? Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are

Ros. Why, then, can one desire too much of a good thing?-Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us.-Give me your hand, Orlando:-not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise,

What do you say, sister?

Orl. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot say the words.

or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her

Ros. You must begin,-Will you, Orlando, you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the Cel. Go to:-Will you, Orlando, have to wife

this Rosalind?

Orl. I will.

Ros. Ay, but when?

Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Ros. Then you must say,-I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but -I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.

Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged. Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have her after you have possessed her.

Orl. For ever and a day.

gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise.

Orl. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: So, adieu.

Ros. Well, time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let time try: Adieu!

[Exit ORLANDO.

Cel. You have simply misus'd our sex in your love prate: we must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done with her own nest.

Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded; my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.

Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.

Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo: December Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, when they wed: maids are May when they are that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen, and maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that I will be more jealous of thee than a barbary cock-abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain; and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry: I will laugh likea hyena,3 and that when thou art inclined to sleep.

Orl. But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.
Orl. O, but she is wise.

1 The foolish chroniclers. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads coroners; and it must be confessed the context seems to warrant the innovation, unless Shakspeare means to designate the jury impanneled on a coroner's inquest by the term chroniclers.

2 Figures, and particularly that of Diana, with water conveyed through them, were anciently a frequent ornament of fountains.

3 The bark of the hyena was thought to resemble a loud laugh.

4 i. e. bar the doors.

5 Wit, whither wil? This was a kind of proverbial phrase, the origin of which has not been traced. It seems to be used chiefly to express a want of command over the fancy or inventive faculty. It occurs in many writers of Shakspeare's time.

[Exeunt. Enter

let him be judge, how deep I am in love :-I'll tell
thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlan-
do: I'll go find a shadow,1° and sigh till he come.
Cel. And I'll sleep.
SCENE II. Another part of the Forest.
JAQUES and Lords, in the habit of Foresters
Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer?
1 Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's

6 This bit of satire is also to be found in Chaucer's Marchantes Tale, where Proserpine says of women cn like occasion:

'For lacke of answere none of us shall dien.' 7 i. e. represent her fault as occasioned by her husband. Hanmer reads, her husband's accusation.

8 Pathetical and passionate were used in the same sense in Shakspeare's time. Whether Rosalind has any more meaning than Costard in the use of the word when he calls Armado's boy a most pathetical nit.' t leave the reader to judge.

9 This is borrowed from Lodge's Rosalynd.
10 So in Macbeth :-

'Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.'

horns upon his head, for a branch of victory:- Did you ever hear such railing?— Have you no song, forester, for this purpose?

2 Lord. Yes, s!T.

Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me→

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so Meaning me, a beast.

't makes noise enough.

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Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and here much Orlando !2

Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows, and is gone forth to sleep: Look, who comes here.

Enter SILVIUS.

If the scorn of your bright eynes
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect?
Whiles
you chid
I did love;

me,

How then might your prayers move?
He, that brings this love to thee,
Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
Of me, and all that I can make ;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I'll study how to die.
Sil. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!

Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.Wilt thou love such a woman?-What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured!-Well, go your way to her, (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake,') and say this to her;-That if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, [Giving a letter. unless thou entreat for her.-If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more com [Exit SILVIUS

Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth:-
My gentle Phebe, bid me give you this:

I know not the contents; but as I guess,
By the stern brow, and waspish action
Which she did use as she was writing of it,
It bears an angry tenour: pardon me,
I am but as a guiltless messenger.

Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter,
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
She says, I am not fair; that I lack manners;
She calls me proud; and, that she could not love me
Were man as rare as phoenix: Od's my will!
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
Why writes she so to me ?-Well, shepherd, well,
This is a letter of your own device.

Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents;
Phebe did write it."

Ros.

Come, come, you are a fool,
And turn'd into the extremity of love.

I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,
A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think

pany.

Enter OLIVER.

Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if you
know

Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands
A sheep-cote, fenc'd about with olive-trees?

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour

bottom,

The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream,
Left on your right hand, brings you to the place:
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,
There's none within.

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then I should know you by description;
Such garments, and such years: The boy is fav,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: but the woman low,
And browner than her brother. Are not you

That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands; The owner of the house I did inquire for?

She has a huswife's hand: but that's no matter:

I

say, she never did invent this letter;

This is a man's invention, and his hand.

Sil. Sure, it is hers.

Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style,
A style for challengers: why, she defies me,
Like Turk to Christian: woman's gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance :-Will you hear the
letter?

Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet:
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the tyrant

writes.

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1 In Playford's Musical Companion, 1673, where this song is set to music by John Hilton, the words Then sing him home' are omitted, and it should be remarked that in the old copy, these words, and those which have been regarded by the editors as a stage direction, are given in one line.

2 i. e. here is no Orlando. Much was a common ironical expression of doubt or suspicion, still used by the vulgar in the same sense; as, 'much of that!

3 Mason thinks that part of Silvius's speech is lost, and that we should read

'Phebe did write it with her own fair hand.' and then Rosalind's reply follows more naturally. 4 i. e. mischief. 5 Eyne for eyes.

8 Kind, for nature, or natural affections.

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He left a promise to return again
Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 10
Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside,
And, mark, what object did present itself!
Under an oak," whose boughs were moss'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,

A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,

a wretch or poor creature. Hence also a sneaking or
7 A poor snake was a term of reproach equivalent to
creeping fellow.

8 i. e. acts, or behaves like, &c.

9 A napkin and handkerchief were the same thing in Shakspeare's time, as we gather from the dictionaries of Baret and Hutton in their explanations of the word Casitium and Sudarium. Napkin, for handkerchief, is still in use in the north.

10 i. e. love, which is always thus described by our old poets as composed of contraries.

11 The ancient editions read, under an old oak, which hurts the measure without improving the sense The correction was made by Steevens,

Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,

Ros. I shall devise something; But, I pray you,
commend my counterfeiting to him :-
:-Will

you go

[Exeunt.

And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade

A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

ACT V.

Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, SCENE I. The same. Enter TOUCHSTONE and
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis

The royal disposition of that beast,

To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same
brother;

And he did render1 him the most unnatural
That liv'd 'mongst men.

Oli.
And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.

Ros. But, to Orlando ;-Did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so:
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,

Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awak'd.
Cel. Are you his brother?
Ros.

Was it you he rescu'd? Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?

Oli. "Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?→

Oli.
By and by.
When from the first to last, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd;
As, how I came into that desert place ;-
In brief he led me to the gentle duke,

Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him; bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

AUDREY.

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Will. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name: Wast born i' the forest here?

Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Touch. Thank God ;-a good answer: Art rich?
Will. 'Faith, sir, so, so.

Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excel-
lent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art
thou wise?

Will. Av, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now re-
member a saying; The fool doth think he is wise,
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The
heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to cat a
grape, would open his lips when he put it into his
mouth; meaning thereby, that grapes were made
to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?
Will. I do, sir.

Touch. Give me your hand: Art thou learned?
Will. No, sir.

Touch. Then learn this of me: To have, is to
have: For it is a figure in rhetorick, that drink,

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany-being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other: for all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; now you are not ipse, for I am he.

mede ?
[ROSALIND faints,
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it :-Cousin-Ganymede!
Oli. Look, he recovers.
Ros.
I would, I were at home.
Cel. We'll lead you thither :-

Will. Which he, sir?

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman: Therefore, you clown, abandon,-which is in the vulgar, leave,-the society,-which in the boorish Oli. Be of good cheer, youth:-You a man?-is, company,-of this female,---which in the com

pray you,

will you take him by the arm?

You lack a man's heart.

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would think this was well counterfeited: I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited.-Heigh

ho!

Oli. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in your complexion, that it was a passion

of earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Ros. So I do: but, i'faith, I should have been a woman by right.

Cel. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you, draw homewards :-Good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

1 i. e. represent or render this account of him.

2 i. e. jostling or clashing, encounter.

mon is,---woman, which together is, abandon the
society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest ;
i
or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit,
kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into
death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in
poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I
with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty
will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'errun thee
ways: therefore tremble, and depart.
Aud. Do, good William.
Will. God rest you, merry sir.
Enter CORIN.

[Exit

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come,
away, away.

Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey ;---I attend,
I attend.
[Exeunt

3 Warburton thinks this a sneer at the insignificant sayings and actions recorded of the ancient philoso. phers by the writers of their lives

1

SCENE II. The same. Enter ORLANDO and
OLIVER.

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that but seeing, you should love her? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy her?1

years old, conversed with a magician, most profound
in this art, and yet not damnable. If you do love
Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it
out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you
marry her: I know into what straits of fortune she
is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it ap
pear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your
eyes to-morrow; human as she is, and without
any danger.
Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her, that she loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, other: it shall be to your good: for my father's though I say I am a magician: Therefore put you house, and all the revenue that was old Sir Row-in your best array, bid your friends; for if you will land's, will I estate upon you, and here live and be married to-morrow, you shall; and to Rosalina, die a shepherd. if you will.

Enter ROSALIND.

Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding De to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke, and all his contented followers: Go you, and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. Ros. God save you, brother.

Oli. And you, fair sister.2

Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.

Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers.

Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,

To show the letter that I writ to you.

Ros. I care not, if I have: it is my study,

Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to To seem despiteful and ungentle to you: see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.

Orl. It is my arm.

Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon, when he showed me your handkerchief?

Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that.

Ros. O, I know where you are:---Nay, 'tis true: there never was any thing so sudden, but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar's thrasonical brag of---I came, saw, and overcame: For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner sighed, but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs cannot part them.4

Orl. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy, in having

what he wishes for.

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idle talking. Know of me then, (for now I speak to some purpose,) that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good, and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three 1 Shakspeare, by putting this question into the mouth of Orlando, seems to have been aware of the improbaDility in his plot caused by deserting his original. In odge's novel the elder brother is instrumental in saving Aliena from a band of ruffians; without this circumstance the passion of Aliena appears to be very hasty

indeed.

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You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd;
Look upon him, love him; he worships you.
Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to
love.

Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ;-
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganymede.
Orl. And I for Rosalind.
Ros. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service;-
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And I for Ganymede.
Orl. And I for Rosalind.
Ros. And I for no woman.

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all obeisance;a—
And so am I for Phebe.

Phe. And so am I for Ganymede.
Orl. And so am I for Rosalind.
Ros. And so am I for no woman.
Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love
you?
[TO ROSALAND.

Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love
you?
[TO PHEBE.
Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
Ros. Who do you speak to, why blame you me to
love you?

Orl. To her, that is not here; nor doth not hear. howling of Irish wolves against the moon.—I will Ros. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the help you, [To SILVIUS] if I can.-I would love you, To PHEBE] if I could.-To-morrow meet me all together.-I will marry you, [To PHEBE] if ever I marry woman, and I'll be married to-mor row; I will satisfy you, [To ORLANDO] if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-mor row:-I will content you, [To SILVIUS] if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married to-morrow.-As you [To ORLANDO] love Rosalind, meet;-as you [To SILVIUS] love Phebe,

5 Conceit in the language of Shakspeare's age signi fied wit; or conception, and imagination.

6 Human as she is,' that is, not a phantom, but the real Rosalind, without any of the danger generally con ceived to attend upon the rites of incantation.

7'I say I am a magician.' She alludes to the danger in which her avowal of practising magic, had it been a serious one, would have involved her. The poet refers to his own times, when it would have brought her life in danger.

8 i. e. invite.

9' Obeisance. The old copy reads observance, but it is very unlikely that word should have been set down by Shakspeare twice so close to each other. Ritson proposed the present emendation. Observance is atten tion, deference.

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