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 Hunter 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. Cel. 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[m] out of rings Orl. Not so: but I answer you right painted cloath, from whence you haue studied your questions