Ros. Nay, but who is it?
175 Cel. Is it possible?
Ros. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, [177] tell me who it is.
Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all [180] hooping!
[181] Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I [182] am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in [183] my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of [184] discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak 185 apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a 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.
190 Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros. Is he of God’s 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 be 195 thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both in an instant.