ORLANDO.
I do desire we may be better strangers.
JAQUES.
I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love songs in their barks.
ORLANDO.
I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.
JAQUES.
Rosalind is your love’s name?
ORLANDO.
Yes, just.
JAQUES.
I do not like her name.
ORLANDO.
There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.
JAQUES.
What stature is she of?
ORLANDO.
Just as high as my heart.
JAQUES.
You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings?