Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure.
Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
Jaq. I’ll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good 275 Signior Love.
[276] Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good [277] Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit Jaques.
Ros. [Aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do [280] you hear, forester?
Orl. Very well: what would you?
Ros. I pray you, what is’t o’clock?
Orl. You should ask me what time o’ day: there’s no clock in the forest.
285 Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.
Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper?