[Enter ORLANDO, with a paper.]

ORLANDO: Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love; And thou, thrice-crownèd queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree, The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she.

[Exit.]

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