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Rof. Ay, and twenty such.
Rof. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?
Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister?
Orla. Pray thee, marry us.
Rof. I might ask you for your commission; but I do take thee,
my husband: there's a girl goes before the priest, and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.
Orla. So do all thoughts; they are wing’d.
you have poffess’d her.
Orla. For ever and a day.
Rof. Say a day without the ever: no, no, Orlando, men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives : I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more newfangled 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 dispos’d to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when you are inclin’d to sleep.
Orla. But will my Rosalind do so ?
the waywarder: make the doors fast upon a woman's wit, and it
Orla. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say,
Rof. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your
Orla. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
you there: you shall
Orla. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
Orla. I must attend the duke at dinner, by two o'clock I will
Orla. Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and fo god mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you
break one jot of your promise, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think
you the most pathetical breakpromise, and the most hollow
Orla. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my
Ref. Well, time is the old justice that. examines all such
S CE N E III. Cel. You have fimply misus’d our sex in your love-prate : we must have
doublet and hose pluck'd over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own neft.
Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didA know how many fathom deep I am in love! but it cannot be founded: 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.
Ref. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv’d of spleen, and born of madness, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love; I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the light of Orlando : I'll go shadow, and sigh till he come. Cel. And I'll sleep.
Enter Jaques, Lords, and Forefters.
Jaq. Let's present him to the duke like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to fet the deer's horns upon his head for a branch of victory: have you no long, forester, for this purpose ?
For. Yes, fir.
Jaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.
[The rest shall bear this burden.
SCE N E
Enter Rosalind, and Celia.
Cel. I warrant you, with pure love, and troubled brain, he
[after reading the letter.
Syl. No, I protest, I know not the contents;
Ros. Come, come, you're a fool,
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands ;
Syl. Sure, it is hers.
Rof. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style,
yet; Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty.
Rof. She Phebe’s me: mark, how the tyrant writes. [reads.] Art thou god to Mepherd turn’d,
That a maiden's heart bath burn'd?
Syl. Call you this railing?
Warrst thou with a woman's heart?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
If the scorn of your bright eyne
chid me, I did love;