ROSALIND. Good my complexion! Dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South Sea of discovery. I prithee tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of narrow-mouthed bottle—either too much at once or none at all. I prithee take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings. CELIA. So you may put a man in your belly. ROSALIND. Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? CELIA. Nay, he hath but a little beard. ROSALIND. 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. CELIA. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both in an instant. ROSALIND. Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true maid. 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? How looked 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. CELIA. You must borrow me Gargantua’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. ROSALIND. 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? CELIA. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover. But take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. ROSALIND. It may well be called Jove’s tree when it drops forth such fruit. CELIA. Give me audience, good madam. ROSALIND. Proceed. CELIA. There lay he, stretched along like a wounded knight. ROSALIND. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. CELIA. Cry “holla!” to thy tongue, I prithee. It curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. ROSALIND. O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart. CELIA. I would sing my song without a burden. Thou bring’st me out of tune. ROSALIND. Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. Enter Orlando and Jaques. CELIA. You bring me out. Soft, comes he not here? ROSALIND. ’Tis he! Slink by, and note him. [_Rosalind and Celia step aside._] JAQUES. I thank you for your company but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. ORLANDO. And so had I, but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. JAQUES. God be wi’ you, let’s meet as little as we can. ORLANDO. I do desire we may be better strangers. JAQUES. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.