Cel.

Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando.

WE
WERE I my father, coz, would I do this?

Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Row

land's fon,

His youngest son, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

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

Cel. Gentle Goufin,

Let us go thank him and encourage him;
My father's rough and envious difpofition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd:
If you do keep your promises in love,

But juftly as you have exceeded all in promise,
Your miftrefs fhall be happy.

Rof. Gentleman,

Wear this for me; one out of fuits 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. Can I not fay, I thank you?

parts

my better

Are all thrown down ; and that, which here ftands * Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.

up,

Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for

tunes.

a

Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.] A Quintaine was a Poft or Bute fet up for feveral Kinds of martial Exercifes, against which they threw their Darts and exercised their Arms. The Allufion is beautiful. I am, says Orlando, only a quintaine, lifeless Block on which Love only Exercises his Arms in Jeft; the great Disparity of Condition between Rolalind and me, not fuffering me to hope that Love will ever maks a ferious Matter of it.

B 6

I'll

I'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?

Rof. Have with you: fare you well.

[Exeunt Rof. 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 fomething weaker, mafters thee.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deferv'd
High commendation, true applaufe, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition,

That he misconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More fuits 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 wreftling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man

mers;

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter;
The other's 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 difpleafure 'gainft his gentle Neice;
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, fair

you well;

Here

Hereafter, in a better world than this,

well!

Ifhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you
Thus muft I from the fmoke into the fmother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother:
But, heav'nly Rosalind!-

Cel.

SCENE VIII.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

[Exit.

W have mercy; not a word!

HY, Coufin; why, Rofalind; Cupid

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 reasons.

Rof. Then there were two Coufins laid up; when the one fhould be lam'd with Reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for

your father?

Rof. No, some of it is for my father's Child. 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 wish upon you! you will try in time, in despight of a Fall ;—but turning thefe jests out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft: is it poffible fuch a fudden on fhould fall into so strong you a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof.

Rof. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you fhould love his fon dearly? by this kind of chafe, I should hate him; for my father hated his father dearly; yet I

hate not Orlando.

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

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

Rof. L

SCENE

Enter Duke, with Lords.

ET 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, dispatch you with your safest haste, from our Court.

And get you

Rof. Me Uncle!

Duke, You, Coufin.

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public 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 frantic,
(As I do truft, 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 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 Highnefs took his Duke

dom;

So

So was I, when your Highness banish'd him;
Treafon 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 fo much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

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

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her ftay;
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 fo am I; we ftill have flept together,
Rofe at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,
Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

[ness,

Duke. She is too fubtle for thee; and her fmooth

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 fhine more virtuous,

When she is gone; then open not thy lips:
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

Which I have paft upon her; she 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, Neice, provide yourself; If you out-flay the time, upon mine Honour, And in the Greatness of

you die.

my word,

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

Cel.

My poor Rofalind; where 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.