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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 verses.

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?
Ros. Is it a man?

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck : Change you colour?

Ros. I pr’ythee, who?

Cel. O lord, lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet;* but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it?
Cel. Is it possible?

scene.

- a palm-tree:) A palm-tree, in the forest of Arden, is as much out of its place, as the lioness in a subsequent

- I was neter so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat,] Rosalind is a very learned lady. She alludes to the Pythagorean doctrine, which teaches that souls transmigrate from one animal to another, and relates that in his time she was an Irish rat, and by some metrical charm was rhymed to death.

JOHNSON. friends to meet;] Alluding ironically to the proverb: “ Friends may meet, but mountains never greet."

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!

Ros. Good my complexion !o 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 a 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.

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out of all whooping!) i. e. out of all measure, or reckoning. This appears to have been a phrase of the same import as another formerly in use, « out of all cry."

6 Goodh my complexion !] A little unmeaning exclamatory address to her beauty; in the nature of a small oath, Ritson.

7 One inch of delay more is a South-sea-off discorerv.] The old copy reads—is a South-sea of discoverie : which, says Mr. Henley, is the only reading that can preserve the sense of Rosalind. A South-sea of discovery, is not a discovery, us FAR OFF, but as COMPREHENSIVE as the South-sea; which, being the largest in the world, affords the widest scope for exercising curiosity.

speak sad brore, and true maid.] i, e. speak with a grave

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Cel. I'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Ros. Orlando?
Cel. Orlando.

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 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.
Ros. Proceed.

Cel. There lay he, stretch'd along, like a wounded knight.

countenance, and as truly as thou art a virgin; speak seriously and honestly.

9 Wherein went he?] In what manner was he clothed? How did he go dressed?

Garagantua's mouth-) Rosalind requires nine questions to be answered in one word. Celia tells her that a word of such magnitude is too big for any mouth but that of Garagantua the giant of Rabelais. JOHNSON.

to count atomies,] Atomies are those minute particles discernible in a stream of sunshine that breaks into a darkened room. HENLEY.

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 curvets very unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter. Ros. O ominous! he comes to kill

my

heart. Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bring'st me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.

Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES. Cel. You bring me out:-Soft! comes he not here? Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him.

[Celia and Rosalind retire. Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. Jaq. God be with you; let's meet as little as we

can. Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers.

Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my

verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name?
Orł. Yes, just.
Jaq. I do not like her name.

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you, when she was christen'd.

Jaq. What stature is she of?

3 Cry, holla! to thy tongue,] Holla was a term of the manege, by which the rider restrained and stopp'd his horse.

to kill my heart.) A quibble between heart and hart.

Orl. Just as high as my heart.

Jaq. You are full of pretty answers: Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions.

Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our inistress the world, and all our misery.

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world, but myself; against whom I know most faults.

Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in love. Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your

best virtue. I am weary of

you. Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, when I found you.

Orl. He is drown'd in the brook; look but in, and you

shall see him. Jaq. There shall I see mine own figure.

Ori. Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher.

Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good signior love.

Orl. I am glad of your departure; adieu, good monsieur melancholy.

[Exit JAQUES.—Celia and ROSALIND

come forward. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under that habit play the knave with him.-Do you hear, forester?

Orl. Very well; What would you?
Ros. I pray you, what is't a clock?

but I answer you right painted cloth,] This alludes to the fashion in old tapestry hangings, of mottos and moral sentences from the mouths of the figures worked or painted in them.

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