d

Yet fuch is now the duke's condition,

That he mifconftrues all that you have done.
The duke is humourous: what he is, indeed,
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orla. I thank you, fir: and, pray you, tell me this;
Which of the two was daughter of the duke

That here was at the wrestling?

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners ;
But yet, indeed, the fhorter is his daughter :
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,
And here detain'd by her ufurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will fuddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

[Exit.

I shall defire more love and knowledge of you.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!
Thus muft I from the smoke into the fmother;

[Exit.

From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother :-
But heavenly Rosalind!

SCENE III.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Celia, and Rofalind.

Cel. Why, coufin; why, Rosalind;-Cupid have mercy! -Not a word?

d

condition,]-difpofition. e humourous;]-humourfome, peevish.

Rof.

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be caft away upon curs, throw fome of them at me; come, lame me with reafons.

Rof. Then there were two coufins laid up; when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rof. No, fome of it is for my child's father: Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Rof. I would try; if I could cry, hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.

Rof. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Cel. O, a good wifh upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a fall.But, turning these jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earnest: Is it poffible on fuch a fudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old fir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly.

h

Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you should love his fon dearly? By this 'kind of chafe, I fhould hate him, for my father hated his father * dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

k

my child's father :]-future hufband-father's child.

8 a good wish upon you !]-Heavens bless you.

k

dearly-to your heart.

kind of chafe,]-method of argument.

dearly;]-mortally.

Rof.

Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.

Cel. Why fhould I 'not? doth he not deserve well?

Enter Duke, with lords.

Rof. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do :-Look, here comes the duke.

Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Duke. Miftrefs, difpatch you with your fafeft hafte, And get you from our court.

Rof. Me, uncle?

Duke. You, cousin :

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our publick court as twenty miles,
Thou dieft for it.

Rof. I do befeech your grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence,

Or have acquaintance with my own defires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
(As I do trust, I am not) then, dear uncle,
Never, fo much as in a thought unborn,
Did I offend your highness.

Duke. Thus do all traitors;

If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself :-

Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Rof. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor:

Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough.

Rof. So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I, when your highness banish'd him :

Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,

VOL. II.

1 not ?]-love him.

Q

What's

What's that to me? my father was no traitor :
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear fovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia; we but ftay'd her for your fake,
Elfe had the with her father rang'd along.

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay,
It was your pleasure, and "your own remorse;
I was too young that time to value her,
But now I know her: if fhe be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's fwans,

Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

Duke. She is too fubtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very filence, and her patience,

Speak to the people, and they pity her.

Thou art a fool: fhe robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt fhow more bright, and feem more "virtuous,

When she is gone: then open not thy lips;

Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have past upon her; fhe is banish'd.

Cel. Pronounce that fentence then on me, my liege;

I cannot live out of her company.

Duke. You are a fool;-You, niece, provide yourself; If you out-ftay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am.
Rof. I have more cause.

m

your own remorfe ;]-the refult of your own feelings. " virtuous,]-excellent.

Cel.

Cel. Thou haft not, coufin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No hath not? Rofalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth me that she and I are one:
Shall we be funder'd? shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father feek another heir.
Therefore devife with me, how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us :
And do not feek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither fhall we go?

Cel. To feek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth fo far?
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of Pumber fmirch my face;
The like do you; fo fhall we pass along,
And never ftir affailants.

Rof. Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh,

१

A boar-fpear in my hand; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a fwashing and a martial outside;
As many other 'mannish cowards have,

• "Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one :"
Pumber fmirch my face ;]-stain my complexion brown.
a curtle-ax]-cutlafs, broad-fword.

mannifh cowards]-male cowards.

O 2

· I'll have a fwaggering.

That