Orl. Of a snail?
Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries 050 his house on his head; a better jointure, I think, than [051] you make a woman: besides, he brings his destiny with him.
Orl. What’s that?
Ros. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be [054] beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his [055] fortune and prevents the slander of his wife.
Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.
Ros. And I am your Rosalind.
Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind [060] of a better leer than you.
Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?
Orl. I would kiss before I spoke.
[065] Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will [068] spit; and for lovers lacking,—God warn us!—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.