ACT III.
2. SCENE II. The Forest of Arden.
(continued)
TOUCHSTONE.
You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.
[Enter CELIA, reading a paper.]
ROSALIND.
Peace!
Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.
CELIA.
'Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree
That shall civil sayings show:
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the streching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age.
Some, of violated vows
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend;
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write,
Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Therefore heaven nature charg'd
That one body should be fill'd
With all graces wide-enlarg'd:
Nature presently distill'd
Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty;
Atalanta's better part;
Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devis'd,
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest priz'd.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.'
ROSALIND.
O most gentle Jupiter!--What tedious homily of love have
you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Have
patience, good people!'
CELIA.
How now! back, friends; shepherd, go off a little:--go
with him, sirrah.
TOUCHSTONE.
Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not
with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage.
[Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE.]
CELIA.
Didst thou hear these verses?
ROSALIND.
O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of
them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.
CELIA.
That's no matter; the feet might bear the verses.
ROSALIND.
Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves
without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
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