morous than a parrot against rain; more new-158 fangled 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. 164 Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doors 168 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 hath a wife with such a wit, he might say, 'Wit, whither wilt?' 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. 172 177 185 189 163 hyen: hyena 174 'Wit... wilt'; cf. n. 184 husband's occasion; cf. n. Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o'clock I will be with thee again. Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove, my friends told me as much, and I thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours won me: 'tis but one cast away, and so, come, death! Two o'clock is your hour? Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind. Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical breakpromise, and the most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful. Therefore, beware my censure, and keep your promise. Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so, adieu. 197 207 Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try. 211 Adieu. Exit [Orlando]. Cel. You have simply misused 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 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. 195 cast away: forsaken 216 bird. . . nest; cf. n. 216 199 mend: amend 205 gross: whole 211 Time try: i.e., prove your fidelity misused: reviled 220 bay of Portugal; cf. n. Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. 222 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. 230 Exeunt. Scene Two [Another Part of the Forest] Enter Jaques and Lords, Foresters. 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? [Second] Lord. Yes, sir. Jaq. Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune so it make noise enough. Music. Song. 'What shall he have that kill'd the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home. 6 12 The rest shall bear this burden. S. d. Lords, Foresters: (Lords dressed as foresters) 224 thought: melancholy 5 branch; cf. n. spleen: impulse S. d. The Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.' 16 Exeunt. Scene Three [The Forest of Arden] 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 a troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and ar- 4 rows, and is gone forth to sleep. Enter Silvius. Look, who comes here. Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth. My gentle Phebe did bid me give you this: [Giving a letter.] I know not the contents; but, as I guess I am but as a guiltless messenger. 8 12 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! 18 phoenix; cf. n. 16 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, 20 This is a letter of your own device. Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents: Phebe did write it. Ros. Come, come, you are a fool, And turn'd into the extremity of love. 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: 24 She has a housewife's hand; but that's no matter: 28 This is a man's invention, and his hand. Sil. Sure, it is hers. Ros. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 32 36 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. [Reads.] '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. [reads.] 'Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart?' 25 hand: handwriting 34 Turk to Christian; cf. n. 36 Ethiop: dark 40 44 26 freestone-colour'd: brick-colored 35 giant-rude: excessively rude 45 laid apart: put away |