ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.

Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.

Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow. Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern' censure worse than drunkards.

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 politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels; which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness.

:

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 gain'd my experience.

1 Modern is here used in the sense of common, ordinary, trite, as before in this play: " Full of wise saws and modern instances.

B

Enter ORLANDO.

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

Orl. Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind ! Jaq. Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse.

Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. [Exit JAQUES.] - 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 clapp'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: I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.

Orl. Of a snail?

Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly,

Disable was sometimes used by the old writers in the sense

of disrepute, detract from, or impeach.

H.

3 That is, been at Venice, then the resort of all travellers, as Paris now. Shakespeare's contemporaries also point their shafts at the corruption of our youth by travel. Bishop Hall wrote his 'ittle book Quo Vadis? to stem the fashion.

he carries his house on his head; a better jointure, I think, than you 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 beholding 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 nie, 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 gravell'd 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.

4 Leer was anciently used simply for look, its original meaning being face, countenance, complexion. Thus in The Merry Wives of Windsor Falstaff says of Mrs. Ford,- She gives the leer of invitation." And in an old ballad, The Witch of Wokey:

"Her haggard face was foull to see;

Her mouth unmeet a mouth to bee;
Her eyne of deadly leer."

Again, in Holland's Pliny: "In some places there are no other hing bred or growing but brown and duskish, insomuch as not nly the cattel is all of that leere, but also the corne upon the ground, and other fruits of the earth."

H.

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?

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.

Ros. Well, in her person, I say—I will not have you.

Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die.

Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dash'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 midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; 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.

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, and twenty such.

Orl. What say'st thou ?

Ros. Are you not good?

Orl. I hope so.

Ros. Why, then, can one desire too much of a good thing?

and marry us.

Come, sister, you shall be the priest,

Give me your hand, Orlando :

What do you say, sister?

Orl. Pray thee, marry us.

Cel. I cannot say the words.

Ros. You must begin, —“Will you, Orlando,'

-

Cel. Go to: - Will you, Orlando, have to wife

this Rosalind?

Orl. I will.

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.”

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but, — I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There's a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.

5

Orl. So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.

Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have possess'd her.

Orl. Forever and a day.

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

That is, goes faster than the priest, gets ahead of him in the service; alluding to her anticipating what was to be said first by Celia.

H.