The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

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:
He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up.
He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall:
His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well:
There was a pretty redness in his lip;
A little riper and more lusty red,

Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference
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:
Imarvel, 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.

[Exeunt.

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and Jaques.
Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better ac-
quainted with thee.

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Juq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.

gondola.-Why, how now, Orlando! 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 clap'd him
o' the shoulder, but I warrant him heart-whole.
Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind!

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: Ihad 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.

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

virtuous.

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?

Orl. 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

Ros. Those, that are in extremity of either, are abo-mistress?
minable fellows, and betray themselves to every mo-
dern censure, worse than drunkards.

Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I should think my honesty ranker than 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.

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; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is poli-Ros. Well, in her person, I say, I will not have you. tic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is compounded of many simples, extracted from many almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there objects; and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me,is a a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with most humorous sadness. 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 midsummer night: for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, 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.

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.

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

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! Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, and all. Orl. And wilt thou have me?

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.

Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but, -1
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.

-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 plucked
over your head, and show the world what the bird hath

Ros. 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 disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, 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.

done to 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. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was
begot of thought, conceived 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 sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow,
and sigh till he come.
Cel. And I'll sleep.

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. A man, that had a wife with such a wit, he might say,-Wit, whither wilt?

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another part of the forest.
Enter JAQUES and Lords, in the habit of Foresters.
Jaq. Which is he that killed 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 horns
upon his head, for a branch of victory. — Have you no
song, forester, for this purpose?
2 Lord. Yes, sir.

Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. 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 answer, unless you take her without her tongue.O,that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool. 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 o'clock I will be with thee again.

Jaq. Sing it; 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it
make noise enough.

Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

SCENE III.-The forest.
Enter ROSALIND and CElia.
Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock?
and here much Orlando!

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.

Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth; My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:[Giving a letter 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, 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:

Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God
mend me, and by all pretty oaths, that are not dange-Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
rous, if you break one jot of your promise, or come one This is a letter of your own device.
minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pa- Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents;
thetical break-promise, and the most hollow lover, Phebe did write it.
and the most unworthy of her yon call Rosalind, that Ros. Come, come, you are a fool,
may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: And turn'd into the extremity of love.
therefore beware my censure, and keep your promise. I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,

A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think,
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands;
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 her's.

Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and 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. Art thou god to shepherd turn'd,

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd?

Can a woman rail thus ?

Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros. Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?
Did you ever hear such railing ?-

Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.—
Meaning me a beast.

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

[Reads.

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, unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit Silvius.

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 neigbour 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 fair,
of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister: but the woman low,
And browner than her brother. Are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind,
He sends this bloody napkin; are you he?
Ros. Iam. What must we unterstand by this?
Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me,
What man I am, and how, and why, and where

This handkerchief was stain'd. Cel. I pray you, tell it.

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you, He left a promise to return again

Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befel! 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,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
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 render 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 aud 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 I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in this blood, unto the shepherd youth,
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Ganymede?
[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 ;

pray you, will you take him by the arm?

Oli. Be of good cheer, youth!--You a man?

that I

Tears

You lack a man's heart.
|female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better
Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body would understanding, diest; to wit, I kill thee,make thee away,
think this was well counterfeited: I pray you, tell your translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I
brother, how well I counterfeited.-Heigh ho! will deal in poison with thee,or in bastinado,or in steel;
Oli. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testi-I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'er-run thee
mony in your complexion, that it was a passion of with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways;
therefore tremble, and depart!
And. Do, good William!
Will. God rest you merry, sir.
Enter CORIN.

earnest.

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

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

Ros. Soldo; 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.

Ros. I shall devise something. But, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? [Exeunt

SCENE I.-The same.
Enter TOUCHSTONE and Audrey.
Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle
Audrey!

And. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Touch. A most wicked sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

And. Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean. Enter WILLIAM.

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown. By my troth, we that have good wits, have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. Will. Good even, Audrey!

And. God ye good even, William !
Will. And good even to you, sir.
Touch.Good even, gentle friend! Cover thy head,co-
ver thy head:nay,pr'ythee,be covered. How old are you
Will. Five and twenty, sir.
friend?

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ?
Will. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name. Wast borni' the forest here?
Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

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

[Exit.

sche

Orl.

Rev.

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

Touch. So, so, is good, very good, very excellent good:-and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey :-- I attend, I
attend.
[Exeunt.
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 persevere to enjoy her?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her suddden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her, that she loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each other: it shall be to your good; for my father's house,and all the revenue that was old sir Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

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 was never any thing so sudden,but the fight of two rams and Caesar'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 Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now remember a degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, saying, The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontiman knows himself to be a fool. The heathen philoso-nent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of pher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open love, and they will together; clubs cannot part them. his lips, when he put it into his mouth; meaning there- Orl. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will by, that grapes were made to eat,and lips to open. You bid the duke to the nuptials. But, O, how bitter a thing do love this maid?

Will. I do, sir.

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

it is to look into happiness through another man's
eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow 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?

Touch. Then learn this of me: To have, is to have. For it is a figure in rhetoric, that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. empty the other. For all your writers do consent, that Ros.I will weary you no longer then with idle talking. ipse is he; now, you are not ipse, for I am he. Know of me then, (for now I speak to some purpose,) Will. Which he, sir? that I know, you are a gentleman of good conceit: I Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. There- speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of fore, you clown, abandon, which is in the vulgar, my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; neileave, the society, -- which in the boorish is, com-ther do I labour for a greater esteem, than may in some pany, -- of this female - which in the common is, wo- little measure draw a belief from you to do yourself an, which together is, abandon the society of this good, and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please,

that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three years old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his 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 straights of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear 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?

Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though
I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your best
array, bid your friends; for if you will be married to-
morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will.
Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE.

Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover of hers.
Phe. Yonth, 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,
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you:
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 observance ;—
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 loveyou?
[To Rosalind.
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.
Ros. Pray you, no more of this: 'tis like the howling
of Irish wolves against the moon.-I will 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-morrow:-I will satisfy yon, [To Or-
lando] if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married
to-morrow:-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, meet; and as I love no
woman, I'll meet. So, fare you well; I have left you

commands.

Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no greater matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.

1 Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept time, we lost not our time.

Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be with you; and God mend your voices!-Come, Audrey.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Another part of the forest. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, Oliver, and CELIA.

Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy can do all this that he hath promised?

Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE.

Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is
urg'd!

You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, [To the Duke.
You will bestow her on Orlando here?
DukeS. That would I,had I kingdoms to give with her.
Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I bring
[To Orlando.

her?

Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
Ros. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing?
[To Phebe.

Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after.
Ros. But, if you do refuse to marry me,
You'll give yourself to this most faithfull shepherd?
Phe. So is the bargain.

Ros. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will?
[To Silvius.
Sil. Though to have her and death were both one
thing.

Ros. I have promis'd to make all this matter even.
Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter ;-
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter :-
Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me;
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd
Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her,

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