derful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all whooping.1

Rosalind. Good my complexion, dost thou think, though I

am dressed like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? What manner of man?

Celia. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. Rosalind. Nay, but no mocking.

Celia. I' faith, coz, 'tis he.

Rosalind. Orlando?

Celia. Orlando.

Rosalind. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What said 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? Answer me in one word. Celia. 'Tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size.2 Soft! comes he not here?

[Reënter Orlando L.]

Rosalind. 'Tis he. Slink by, and note him. I will speak to him. Do you hear, forester?

Orlando. Very well. What would you?
Rosalind. I pray you, what is it o'clock?

Orlando. You should ask me what time o'day. There's no clock in the forest.

Rosalind. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the time as well as a clock.

Orlando. Where dwell you, pretty youth?

1 out of all whooping means beyond all description. This whole speech must be analyzed so that it may be read rapidly with good phrasing.

2 too great for a mouth of this age's size. Celia means that only a mouth such as a giant would have had could answer in one great word all of Rosalind's questions.

Rosalind. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the forest.

Orlando. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so remote a place.

Rosalind. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our
young trees with carving "Rosalind" on their bark. If
I could meet him, I would give him some good counsel.
Orlando. I am he that is so love-shaked.

Rosalind. I profess curing it by counsel.
Orlando. I would1 not be cured, youth.

Rosalind. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and come every day to woo me.

Orlando. Now, by the faith of my love, I will. Tell me where.

Rosalind. Go with me, and I will show you. Will you go? Orlando. With all my heart, good youth.

Rosalind. Nay, nay, you must call me Rosalind. - Come, ⚫ sister, will you go?

[Exeunt R.]

[The curtain falls for a moment. When it rises, it reveals Prolog.] And the next day—

[Prolog.]

Rosalind comes here with Celia [R.].

Rosalind. Never talk to me2; I will weep.

[Exit.]

Celia. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man.3

Rosalind. But have I not cause to weep?

Celia. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. Rosalind. But why did he swear that he would come this morning, and comes not?

Celia. He attends here in the forest upon the Duke, your father.

1 would. Again in the sense of wish.

2 Never talk to me: do not talk to me.

3 do not become a man: we say now, 'are not becoming to a man."

Rosalind. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much talk with him. He asked me of what parentage I was. I told him of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando?

But just then Orlando comes [L.].

Orlando. Good-day, and happiness, dear Rosalind!

Rosalind. Why, how now, Orlando! Where have you been all this while? You a lover! If 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 a thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him on the shoulder;1 I'll warrant him heartwhole.

Orlando. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.

Rosalind. Nay, if you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had as lief be wooed of a snail.

Rosalind. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head; a better bargain, I think, than you can make a woman. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in holiday humor and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now if I were your very, very Rosalind?

Orlando. I would kiss before I spoke.

Rosalind. Nay, you had better speak first; and when you were at a loss for words, you might take occasion to kiss. Orlando. Who could be at a loss, being with his beloved sweetheart?

1 Cupid hath clapped him on the shoulder: i.e. in a friendly way – instead of shooting at him.

Rosalind. Am I not 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; not for love.

Orlando. Then love me, Rosalind.

Rosalind. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. Orlando. And wilt thou have me?

Rosalind. Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us.

Give me your hand, Orlando.-What do you say, Aliena?

Celia. 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. Now, tell me how long you would keep her after you have her?

Orlando. Forever and a day.

Rosalind. Say "a day," without the "ever." No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed.

Orlando. For these two hours, Rosalind, I must leave thee; 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. Two o'clock is your hour?

Orlando. Ay, sweet Rosalind.

[Exeunt, Orlando L., others R.]

1 Ay. This word occurs so frequently in Shakespeare that you are reminded of its pronunciation (i) and its meaning (yes). Be careful not to confuse the word with aye (ā), which means always or ever.

[Curtain down for a moment. Then Prolog appears.]

[Prolog.]

Under1 the greenwood tree

Who loves to live with me,

And tune his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

[Exit.]

Rosalind and Celia, strolling back again [R.], are met by Oliver, [L.].

Oliver. Orlando doth commend him to you both,

And to that youth he calls his Rosalind

He sends this bloody handkerchief. Are you he?
Rosalind. I am.
What must we understand by this?
Oliver. Some of my shame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkerchief was stained.

Celia.

I pray you, tell it.

Oliver. When last the young Orlando parted from you
He left a promise to return again

Within an hour; and pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,

Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,

And high top bald with dry antiquity,

He saw a wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Sleeping on his back; about his neck

A snake had wreathed itself; but suddenly,

1 An oral reader may recite this lyric here without explanation; it serves to call attention away from the action, so that the impression may be given of an interval of time elapsing. For a stage presentation, especially if no curtain is used, Prolog may recite this lyric as an interlude, or the song may be sung off stage. See notes on music, p. 372.