I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted
with
thee.
ROSALIND. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
JAQUES. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
ROSALIND. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable
fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse
than
drunkards.
JAQUES. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing.
ROSALIND. Why then, 'tis good to be a post.
JAQUES. I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is
emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the
courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is
ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the
lady's,
which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these; but it is
a
melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted
from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of
my
travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most
humorous
sadness.
ROSALIND. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be
sad.
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