SCENE VI.
Cel.
Didst thou hear these verses?
Ros.
O yes, I heard them all, and more too; for
some of them had in them more feet than the verses
would bear.
Cel.
That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.
Ros.
Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not
bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood
lamely in the verse.
Cel.
But didst thou hear without wondring, how
thy name should be hang'd and carv'd upon these trees?
Ros.
I was seven of the nine days out of wonder,
before you came: for, look here, what I found on a
palm-tree; I was never so be-rhimed since Pythagoras's
time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel.
Trow you, who hath done this?
Ros.
Is it a man?
Cel.
And a chain, that you once wore, about his
neck: Change you colour?
Ros.
I pr'ythee, who?
Cel.
O Lord, Lord, it is a hard matter for friends
to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes,
and so encounter.
Ros.
Nay, but who is it?
Cel.
Is it possible?
Ros.
Nay, I pr'ythee now, with most petitionary
vehemence, tell me who it is.
Cel.
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful
wonderful, and yet again wonderful, and after that
out of all whooping—
Ros.
7 noteGood my complexion! dost thou think,
-- 339 --
though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet
and hose in my disposition? 8 noteOne inch of delay
more is a South-sea off discovery. I pr'ythee, tell
me, who is it; quickly, and speak apace; I would
thou could'st stammer, that thou might'st pour this
concealed 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 pr'ythee, take the cork out of thy
mouth, that I may drink thy tidings.
Cel.
So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros.
Is he of God's 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
be thankful; let me stay the growth of his beard, if
thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel.
It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's
heels and your heart both in an instant.
Ros.
Nay, but the devil take mocking; speak, sad
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
and hose? what did he, when thou saw'st him? what
said he? how look'd he? wherein went 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.
Cel.
You must borrow me Garagantua's mouth first;
'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size:
to say, ay, and no, to these particulars, is more than
to answer in a catechism.
-- 340 --
Ros.
But doth he know that I am in this Forest,
and in man's apparel? looks he as freshly as he did
the day he wrestled?
Cel.
It is as easie to count atoms, as to resolve the
propositions of a lover: but take a taste of my finding
him, and relish it with good observance. 9 note
I
found him under a tree like a dropp'd acorn.
Ros.
It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it
drops forth such fruit.
Cel.
Give me audience, good Madam.
Ros.
Proceed.
Cel.
There lay he strech'd along like a wounded
Knight.
Ros.
Tho' it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes
the ground.
Cel.
Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; it curvets
unseasonably. He was furnish'd like a hunter.
Ros.
Oh, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.
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
think, I must speak: Sweet, say on.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].