But
if I sleep well, and feel like myself again, I may possibly forgive
you to-morrow."
CHAPTER XVI.
(_Rosalind reading a paper_.)
From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind,
Her worth being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind,
All the pictures fairest lined,
Are but black to Rosalind,
Let no face be kept in mind,
But the face of Rosalind.
_Touchstone_.--I'll rhyme you so, eight years together; dinners and
suppers, and sleeping hours excepted; it is the right butter-woman's
rank to market.
As You Like It.
Whenever L'Isle took holiday from his military duties, he was pretty
sure to take it out of his regiment, the next day. On parade, next
morning, he inspected the ranks, bent on detecting some defect in
bearing or equipment, and peered into the faces of the men, as if
hunting out the culprits in the latest breach of discipline. Men and
officers looked for a three hours' drill, to improve their wind, and
put them in condition. But, to their great comfort, he soon let them
off, and hastened back to his quarters.
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