Helens cheeke, butnot his heart,
Cleopatra's Maiestie:
Attalanta's better part,
sad Lucrecia's Modestie.
Thus Rosalinde of manie parts,
by Heauenly Synode was deuis'd,
Of manie faces, eyes, and hearts,
to haue the touches deerest pris'd.
Heauen would that shee these gifts should haue,
and I to liue and die her slaue.
Ros.
O most gentle Iupiter, what tedious homilie of Loue haue you wearied your parishioners withall, and neuer cri'de, haue patience good people.
Cel.
How now backe friends: Shepheard, go off a little: go with him sirrah.
Clo.
Come Shepheard, let vs make an honorable retreit, though not with bagge and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. Exit.
Cel.
Didst thou heare these verses?
Ros.
O yes, I heard them all, and more too, for some of them had in them more feete then the Verses would beare.
Cel.
That's no matter: the feet might beare the verses.
Ros.
I, but the feet were lame, and could not beare themselues without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
Cel.
But didst thou heare without wondering, how thy name should be hang'd and carued vpon these trees?
Ros.
I was seuen of the nine daies out of the wonder, before you came: for looke heere what I found on a Palme tree; I was neuer so berim'd since Pythagoras time that I was an Irish Rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel.
Tro you, who hath done this?
Ros.
Is it a man?
Cel.
And a chaine that you once wore about his neck: change you colour?
Ros.
I pre'thee who?
Cel.
O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends to meete; but Mountaines may bee remoou'd with Earthquakes, and so encounter.
Ros.
Nay, but who is it?
Cel.
Is it possible?
Ros.
Nay, I pre'thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel.
O wonderfull, wonderfull, and most wonderfull wonderfull, and yet againe wonderful, and after that out of all hooping.
Ros.
Good my complection, dost thou think though I am caparison'd like a man, I haue a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more, is a South-sea of discouerie. I pre'thee tell me, who is it quickely, and speake apace: I would thou couldst stammer, that thou might'st powre this conceal'd 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 pre'thee take the Corke out of thy mouth, that I may drinke thy tydings.
Cel.
So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros.
Is he of Gods 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 bee thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel.
It is yong Orlando, that tript vp the Wrastlers heeles, and your heart, both in an instant.
Ros.
Nay, but the diuell take mocking: speake sadde brow, and true maid.
Cel.
I'faith (Coz) tis he.
Ros.
Orlando?
Cel.
Orlando.
Ros.
Alas the day, what shall I do with my doublet & hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What sayde he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes hee heere? Did he aske for me? Where remaines he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him againe? Answer me in one word.
Cel.
You must borrow me Gargantuas mouth first: 'tis a Word too great for any mouth of this Ages size, to say I and no, to these particulars, is more then to answer in a Catechisme.
Ros.
But doth he know that I am in this Forrest, and in mans apparrell? Looks he as freshly, as he did the day he Wrastled?
Cel.
It is as easie to count Atomies as to resolue the propositions of a Louer: but take a taste of my finding him, and rellish it with good obseruance. I found him vnder a tree like a drop'd Acorne.
Ros.
It may wel be cal'd Ioues tree, when it droppes forth fruite.
Cel.
Giue me audience, good Madam.
Ros.
Proceed.
Cel.
There lay hee stretch'd along like a Wounded knight.
Ros.
Though it be pittie to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
Cel.
Cry holla, to the tongue, I prethee: it curuettes vnseasonably. He was furnish'd like a Honter.
Ros.
O ominous, he comes to kill my Hart
Cel.
I would sing my song without a burthen, thou bring'st me out of tune.
Ros.
Do you not know I am a woman, when I thinke, I must speake: sweet, say on.
Enter Orlando & Iaques.
You bring me out. Soft, comes he not heere?
Ros.
'Tis he, slinke by, and note him.
Iaq.
I thanke you for your company, but good faith I had as liefe haue beene my selfe alone.
Orl.
And so had I: but yet for fashion sake
I thanke you too, for your societie.
Iaq.
God buy you, let's meet as little as we can.
Orl.
I do desire we may be better strangers.
Iaq.
I pray you marre no more trees with Writing Loue-songs in their barkes.
Orl.
I pray you marre no moe of my verses with reading them ill-fauouredly.
Iaq.
Rosalinde is your loues name?
Orl.
Yes, Iust.
Iaq.
I do not like her name.
Orl.
There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christen'd.
Iaq.
What stature is she of?
Orl.
Iust as high as my heart.
Iaq.
You are ful of prety answers: haue you not bin acquainted with goldsmiths wiues, & cond the out of rings.
Orl.
Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath, from whence you haue studied your questions.
Iaq.
You haue a nimble wit; I thinke'twas made of Attalanta's heeles. Will you sitte downe with me, and wee two, will raile against our Mistris the world, and all our miserie.
Orl.
I wil chide no breather in the world but my selfe
