Cel.

You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here?

Ros.

'Tis he, slink by, and note him.

Jaq.

I thank you for your company; but good faith, I had as lief have been my self alone.

Orla.

And so had I; but yet for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.

Jaq.

God b'w' you, let's meet as little as we can.

Orla.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

Jaq.

I pray you marr no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks.

Orla.

I pray you marr no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

Jaq.

Rosalind is your love's name.

Orla.

Yes, just.

Jaq.

I do not like her name.

Orla.

There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christen'd.

Jaq.

What stature is she of?

Orla.

Just as a high as my heart.

Jaq.

You are full of pretty answers; have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

Orla.

Not so: but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions.

Jaq.

You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me, and we two will rail against our mistress, the world, and all our misery.

Orla.

I will chide no breather in the world but my self, against whom I know no faults.

Jaq.

The worst fault you have, is to be in love.

Orla.

'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue; I am weary of you.

Jaq.

By my troth I was seeking for a fool, when I found you.

Orla.

He is drown'd in the brook, look but in, and you shall see him.

Jaq.

There I shall see mine own figure.

Orla.

Which I take to be either a fool, or a cypher.

Jaq.

I'll stay no longer with you; farewel, good signior love.

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