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Clo. Mof shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good peice of Aeth, indeed! learn of the wise and perpend; civet is of a baser birth than tar ; the very uncleanly Aux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd..
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me; I'll reft.
Clo. Wilt thou reft damn'd? God help thee, shallow man ; God make incision in thee, thou art raw.
Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer, I earn that I eat; get that I wear ; owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my lambs fuck.
Cle. That is another fimple fin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together ; and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be a bawd to a bell-weather; and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated old cuckoldly ram, out of all reason. able match .If thou be't not damn'd for this, the devil himself will have no hepherds ; I cannot see else how thou should's 'scape.
Cor. Here comes young Mr. Ganymed, my new mis. tress's brother.
Enter Rosalind, with a paper.
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Clo. I'll rhime you so, eight years together ; dinners, and suppers, and fleeping hours excepted : It is the right butter-women's rank to market.
Ros. Out, fool!
(14) If a hart doth lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
Must find love's prick, and Rosalind.
Rof. Peace, you dull fool, I found them on a tree.
Rof. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medler; then it will be the earliest fruit i'th'country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medler.
Clo. You have said ; but whether wisely or no, let the foreft judge.
Enter Celia, with a writing.
For it is unpeopled ? no;
That shall civil sayings fhow.
Runs his erring pilgrimage ;
Buckles in his sum of age ;
Some of violated vows,
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend;
Or at every sentence end,
Teaching all, that read, to know,
Heaven would in little show.
That one body should be fill'd
Cleopatra's majesty ;
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
By heav'nly fynod was devis'd ;
To have the touches deareft priz'd.
And I to live and die her slave.
Ros. O most gentle Jupiter !- what tedious homily of Jóve have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cry'd, have patience, good people ?
Cel. How now ? back-friends! fhepherd, go off a lit. tle : Go with him, firrah.
Clo. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat ; though not with bag and baggae, yet with scrip and fcrippage.
[Exeunt Cor. end Clown. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ?
Rof. 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.
Rof. 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 wondring, how thy Dame Mould be hang’d and carv'd upon these trees?
Rof. I was seven of the nine days out of wonder, before you came: For, look here, what I found on a palmtree ; I was never fo be-rhymed since Pythagoras's time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel. Tro you, who hath done this ? Rof. Is it a man? Cél. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck : Change you colour ?
Roj. 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.
Rof: Nay, but who is it?
Rof. Nay, I pr’ythee now, with most petitionary ve. hemence, tell me who it is.
Cel. O wonderful, wonde ful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all whooping
Rof: (15) Odd's, my complexion ! dost thou think, - though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet · and hose in my difpofition? (16) One inch of delay more is a South-sea oif discovery. I prythee, tell me, who is it ; quickly, and speak apače ; I would thou could'st ftammer, that thou might's 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’y, thee, take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings. (15) Good
my complexion, doft tbou think, &c. - ] This is a mode of expression, that I could not reconcile to common sense ; I have therefore ventur'd by a night change to read, Odd's, my complexion ! fo, in another scene of this comedy, Rosalind again says ;
Odds, my little life ! And again ;
Odd's, my will ! Her love is not the bare that I do bunt, (16) One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery ;) A South-sea of discovery : This is stark nonsense ; we must read off discovery, i. e. from discovery. “ If you delay me one inch of time longer, I “ fhail think this secret as far from discovery as the South-sea is.”
Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.
Rof. 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 ?
Roj. 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.
Rof. Nay, but the devil take mocking ; speak, fad brow, and true maid.
Cel. l'faith, coz, 'tis he.
Rof. Alas the day, what fall I do with my doublet and hose ? what did he, when thou saw'ft 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? anfwer 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 fize: To say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than to answer in a catechism.
Ref. 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 atoms, as to resolve the propofitions of a lover : But take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.
Rof. It may well be callid Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Rof. Though it be pity to see such a fight, it well becomes the ground.
Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr’ythee ; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnith'd like a hunter.