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_ ACT IV. SCENE I.
The forest.
[Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES.]
JAQUES.
I prithee, pretty youth,
let me be better acquainted with thee.
ROSALIND.
They say you are a melancholy fellow.
JAQUES.
I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
ROSALIND.
Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows,
and betray themselves to every modern censure worse
than drunkards.
JAQUES.
Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
ROSALIND.
Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
JAQUES.
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; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most
humorous sadness.
ROSALIND.
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.
JAQUES.
Yes, I have gain'd my experience.
[Enter ORLANDO.]
ROSALIND.
And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a
fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad- and to
travel for it too.
ORLANDO.
Good day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!
JAQUES.
Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank verse.
ROSALIND.
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.
ORLANDO.
My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
ROSALIND.
Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide
a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the
thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be
said of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll
warrant him heart-whole.
ORLANDO.
Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight.
I had as lief be woo'd of a snail.
ORLANDO.
Of a snail!
ROSALIND.
Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly,
he carries his house on his head- a better jointure,
I think, than you make a woman; besides,
he brings his destiny with him.
ORLANDO.
What's that?
ROSALIND.
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.
ORLANDO.
Virtue is no horn-maker;
and my Rosalind is virtuous.
ROSALIND.
And I am your Rosalind.
CELIA.
It pleases him to call you so;
but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you.
ROSALIND.
Come, woo me, 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?
ORLANDO.
I would kiss before I spoke.
ROSALIND.
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.
ORLANDO.
How if the kiss be denied?
ROSALIND.
Then she puts you to entreaty,
and there begins new matter.
ORLANDO.
Who could be out,
being before his beloved mistress?
ROSALIND.
Marry, that should you,
if I were your mistress;
or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
ORLANDO.
What, of my suit?
ROSALIND.
Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.
Am not I your Rosalind?
ORLANDO.
I take some joy to say you are,
because I would be talking of her.
ROSALIND.
Well, in her person, I say I will not have you.
ORLANDO.
Then, in mine own person, I die.
ROSALIND.
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.
ORLANDO.
I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for,
I protest, her frown might kill me.
ROSALIND.
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.
ORLANDO.
Then love me, Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all.
ORLANDO.
And wilt thou have me?
ROSALIND.
Ay, and twenty such.
ORLANDO.
What sayest thou?
ROSALIND.
Are you not good?
ORLANDO.
I hope so.
ROSALIND.
Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?
Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us. Give me your
hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister?
ORLANDO.
Pray thee, marry us.
CELIA.
I cannot say the words.
ROSALIND.
You must begin 'Will you, Orlando'-
CELIA.
Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind?
ORLANDO.
I will.
ROSALIND.
Ay, but when?
ORLANDO.
Why, now; as fast as she can marry us.
ROSALIND.
Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.'
ORLANDO.
I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
ROSALIND.
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.
ORLANDO.
So do all thoughts; they are wing'd.
ROSALIND.
Now tell me how long you would have her,
after you have possess'd her.
ORLANDO.
For ever and a day.
ROSALIND.
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 sky 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 desires than a monkey. I will weep
for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when
you are dispos'd to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that
when thou are inclin'd to sleep.
ORLANDO.
But will my Rosalind do so?
ROSALIND.
By my life, she will do as I do.
ORLANDO.
O, but she is wise.
ROSALIND.
Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser,
the waywarder. Make the doors 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.
ORLANDO.
A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit,
whither wilt?' ROSALIND. Nay, you might keep that check for
it, till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed.
ORLANDO.
And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
ROSALIND.
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!
ORLANDO.
For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
ROSALIND.
Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours!
ORLANDO.
I must attend the Duke at dinner;
by two o'clock I will be with thee again.
ROSALIND.
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?
ORLANDO.
Ay, sweet Rosalind.
ROSALIND.
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 break-promise, 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.
ORLANDO.
With no less religion than
if thou wert indeed my Rosalind; so, adieu.
ROSALIND.
Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such
offenders, and let Time try. Adieu.
[Exit ORLANDO.]
CELIA.
You have simply misus'd our sex in your love-prate.
We must have your doublet and hose pluck'd over your head,
and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest.
ROSALIND.
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.
CELIA.
Or rather, bottomless;
that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out.
ROSALIND.
No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot
of thought, conceiv'd 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.
CELIA.
And I'll sleep.
[Exeunt.] _
Read next: ACT IV: SCENE II
Read previous: ACT III: SCENE V
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