Rof.

Gentleman,

[Giving him a chain from her neck.

Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune;

That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.→ Shall we go, coz ?

Cel.

Ay:-Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orl. Can I not fay, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up, Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.

Rof. He calls us back : My pride fell with my fortunes: I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call, fir ?— Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

More than your enemies.

Cel.

Will you go, coz ?

Rof. Have with you:-Fare you well.

[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.

Orl. What paffion hangs thefe weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet the urg'd conference,

Re-enter LE BEAU.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or fomething weaker, masters thee.
Le Beau. Good fir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place: Albeit you have deferv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet fuch is now the duke's condition,
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orl. 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 shorter 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; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fisters.
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,

I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!

[Exit LE BEAU.

Thus must I from the smoke into the fmother;
From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother :-
But heavenly Rofalind!

:

[Exit,

SCENE III.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter CELIA and ROSALIND.

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

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 cousins laid up; when the

one

one fhould be lamed 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 :

O, how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in holyday 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 despite of a fall.-But, turning these jefts out of service, let us talk in good earneft: Is it poffible, on fuch a fudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old fir Rowland's youngest son ?

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

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

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

Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.

Duke F. Miftrefs, despatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court.

Rof.

Rof.
Duke F.

Me, uncle?

You, coufin:

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 beseech your grace,

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

Or have acquaintance with mine 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 F.

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

Cel. Dear fovereign, hear me speak.

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'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,
C

But

But now I know her: if the be a traitor,

Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's fwans,

Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

Duke F. 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: the robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous, When she is gone: then open not thy lips;

Firm and irrevocable is my doom

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

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

company.

Duke F. You are a fool :-You, niece, provide yourself; If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,

And in the greatness of my word, you

die.

[Exeunt Duke FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rofalind! 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.

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? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be funder'd? fhall 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