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Duke. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown.

Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke. How dost thou, Charles ?
Le Beu. He cannot speak, my Lord.

Duke, Bear him away. What is thy name, young: man ?

Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngeft son of Sir
Rowland de Boys.

Duke. I would, thou hadft been son to some man else!
The world esteem'd thy Father honourable,
But I did find him ftill mine enemy :
Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this deed,
Hadft thou descended from another House.
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth ;
I would, thou hadft told me of another father.

[Exit Duke, with his train,
Manent Celia, Rosalind, Orlando.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
His youngest son, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Rol. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father's mind :
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have giv'n him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle Cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him ;
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd :
If you do keep your promises in love,
But juftly as you have exceeded all in promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.

Rof. Gentleman,
Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune,
That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.
Shall we go, coz? [Giving him a Chain from her Neck.
Cel. Ay, fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orla.

tunes.

Orla. Can I not say, I thank you ?

my better parts Are all thrown down ; and that, which here stands up, Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block. Ros. He calls us back : my pride fell with

my

forI'll ask him what he would. Did you call, Sir ? Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown More than

your

enemies. Cel. Will you go, coz? Ros. Have with you : fare you

well.

[Exeunt Ror. and Cel. Orla. What paffion hangs these weights upon my

tongue ? I cannot speak to her ; yet she urg'd conference.

Enter Le Beu.
O
poor

Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love ;
Yet such is now the Duke's condition,
That he misconstrues all that you have done.'
The Duke is humorous ; what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.

Orla. I thank you, Sir; and, pray you, tell me this ;
Which of the two was Daughter of the Duke
That here was at the wrestling ?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke, And here detain'd by her usurping Uncle To keep his daughter company, whose 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 Neice ; Grounded upon no other argument, But that the people praise her for her virtues,

And

ners ;

And pity her for her good father's fake ;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady:
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare you

well!
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant Brother :
But, heav'nly Rosalind!

[Exit.

SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rosalind. Cei. Why, Cousin; why, Rosalind; Cupid have mercy; not a word !

Ref. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cél. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me ; come, lame me with reasons.

Rof. Then there were two Cousins laid up; when the one should be lam’d with Reafons, and the other mad. without any: Cel. But is all this for

your

father? Rof. No, some of it is for my Child's father. Oh, how full of briers is this working-day-world !

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, 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. Cél. Hem them away. Ros. 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

my felf.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in time, in despight of a Fall; — but turning these jefts out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible on such a sudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son ?

Rofa

Rof: The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his fon dearly? by this kind of chase, I should hate him; for my

father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.
Cel. Why should I? 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 Dúke.

Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Duke. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our Court,

Rol. Me, Uncle !

Duke. You, Cousin.
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our publick Court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

ROS. I do beseech your Grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me :
If with my self 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 so 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 it self:
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Ros. Yet your miftruft cannot make me a traitor ;
Tell me wherein the likelihood depends.

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

Rof. So was I, when your Highness took his DukeSo was I, when your Highness banish'd him ; [dom; Treason is not inherited, my lord ; Or if we did derive it from our friends, What's that to me? my father was no traitor : Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much,

To To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia, we but staid her for your fake ; : Else had she 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 she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rofe at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together ;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

Duke. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothnessy.
Her very filence and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her :
Thou art a fool ; The robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more vir --

tuous, · When she is gone; then open not thy lips : Firm and irrevocable is my doom, Which I have past upon her; she is banish'd.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my Liege ; I cannot live out of her company.

Duke. You are a fool : you, Neice, provide your
If you out-stay the time, upon mine Honour,
And in the Greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, &ci.
Cel. O my poor Rosalind ; where wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers ! I will give thee mine :
I charge thee, be not thou more grievod than I am,

Rof. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin;
Pr’ythee, be cheerful ; know'st thou not, the Duke
Has banish'd me his daughter ?

Rof. That he hath not.
Cel. No ? hath not? (3) Rosalind lacks then the love;

Which
Rosalind lacks then the Love,

Which teacherh thee that thou and I am one] Tho' this be the Reading of all the princed Copics, 'tis evi. dent, the Poet wrote ;

felf; .

(3)

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