Orla. Then, in mine own person I die. Rof. No, 'faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almoft fix thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own perfon, videlicet, in a love caufe. Troilus had his brains dafh'd 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 liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midfummer night: for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellefpont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish chronicles of that age, found it was,-Hero of Seftos. But these are all lies; men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not love.

Orla. I would not have my right Rofalind of this mind; for, I proteft, her frown might kill me.

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

Orla. Then love me, Rofalind.

Rof. Yes, 'faith will I, Fridays, and Saturdays, and all.

Orla. And wilt thou have me?

Rof. Ay, and twenty fuch.

Orla. What fay'st thou?

Rof. Are you not good?

Orla. I hope fo.

Rof. Why then, can one defire too much of a good thing?- -Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us.- -Give me your hand, Orlando :-What do you fay, fifter? G

Orla,

Orla. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot fay the words.

Rof. You must begin-Will you, Orlando

Cel. Go to:—

wife this Rofalind?

Orla. I will.

-Will you, Orlando, have to

Rof. Ay, but when?

Orla. Why now; as faft as fhe can marry us. Ref. Then you must fay,-I take thee, Rofalind for wife.

Orla. I take thee, Rofalind, for wife.

Ref. I might afk you for your commiffion; but, I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There's a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woInan's thought runs before her actions.

Orla. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd. Rof. Now tell me, how long would you have her, after you have poffefs'd her?

Ola. 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 fky 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 new fangled than an ape; more giddy in my defires than a monkey; I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are difpos'd to be merry ; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclin'd to fleep.

Orla. But will my Rosalind do fo?
Rof. By my life, the will do as I do.
Ork. O, but she is wife,

Rof

Rof. Or elfe fhe could not have the wit to do this: the wifer, the waywarder: Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the cafement; fhut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole ftop that, it will fly with the fmoke out at the chimney.

Orla. A man that had a wife with fuch a wit, he might fay,Wit, whither wilt?

Rof. Nay, you might keep that check for it, 'till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.

Orla. And what wit could wit have to excufe that?

Rof. Marry, to fay-The came to feek you there: You fhall never take her without her answer, unlefs you take her without her tongue. O that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occafion, let her never nurfe her child herself, for The will breed it like a fool!

Orla. For thefe two hours, Rofalind, I will leave thee.

Rof. Alas, my dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours.

Orla. I must attend the duke at dinner; by two o'clock I will be with thee again.

-I

Rof. Ay, go your ways, go your ways;knew what you would prove, my friends told me as much, and I thought no lefs:that flattering tongue of your's won me :

-'tis but one caft away, and focome, death. Two o'the clock is your hour?

Orla Ay, fweet Rofalind.

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

G 2

not

Aa IV. not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promife, or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promife, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rofalind, that may be chofen out of the band of the unfaithful: therefore, beware my cenfure, and keep your promise.

Orla. With no less religion, than if thou wert indeed my Rofalind! So, adieu.

Rof. Well, time is the old juftice that examines all fuch offenders, and let time try: Adieu! Exit ORLANDO. Cel. You have fimply mifus'd our fex in your love prate we must have your doublet and hofe pluck'd over your head, and fhew the world what the bird hath done to her own neft.

Rof. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst 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, bottomlefs; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.

Rof. No, that fame wicked baftard of Venus, that was begot of thought, conceiv'd of fpleen, and born of madnefs; that blind rafcally boy, that abufes every one's because his own are out, eyes, let him be judge, how deep I am in love: tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of fight of Orlando: I'll go find a fhadow, and figh till he come. Cel. And I'll fleep.

-I'll

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE II.

Enter JAQUES, Lords and Forefters.

Jaq. Which is he that kill'd the deer?
Lord. Sir, it was I.

Jaq. Let's prefent him to the duke, like a Ro man conqueror; and it would do well to fet the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory:-Have you no fong, forefter, for this purpose ? For. Yes, Sir.

Jaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, fo it makes noife enough.

Mufick, SONG.

1. What shall he have that kill'd the deer?

2. His leather fkin, and horns to wear.

1. Then fing him home:

Take thou no fcorn

To wear the horn, the lufty horn;
It was a creft ere thou waft born.
1. Thy father's father wore it;
2. And thy father bore it :

The horn, the horn, the lufty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to fcorn.

SCENE III.

Enter ROSALIND, and CELIA.

The rest

fhall bear

this bur

den.

[Exeunt,

Rof. How fay you now? Is it not past two 'clock ? and here's much Orlando!

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

G 3

Enter