And here detain'd by her ufurping Uncle But that the people praise her for her virtues, I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit. But, heav'nly Rofalind! SCENE VIII. Changes to an Apartment in the Palace. Re-enter Celia and Rofalind. [Exit. Cel. Why, Coufin; why, Rofalind; Cupid have mercy; not a word! Rof. Not one to throw at a dog. Cél. 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 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 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. X 2 Rof. Rof. I could fhake 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 my self. Cel. O, a good wish 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 fhould fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon? 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. 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 safest hafte, And get you from our Court. Rof. Me Uncle ! Duke. You, Coufin. Within these ten days if that thou be'ft found Thou dieft for it. 2 cry, hem, and have him.] A proverbial expreffion fignifying, having for asking. Rof. Rof. I do befeech your Grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: Or have acquaintance with my own defires; Duke. Thus do all traitors ; If their purgation did confift in words, Rof. Yet your miftruft cannot make me a traitor; Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough. So was I, when your Highness banish'd him; Or if we did defive it from our friends, your fake; Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me fpeak. Duke. She is too fubtle for thee; and her smoothness, Speak to the people, and they pity her: X 3 Thou 309 Thou art a fool; fhe robs thee of thy name, 3 And thou wilt fhow more bright, and fhine more virtuous, When she is gone; then open not thy lips: Which I have paft 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, Neice, provide your self; If you out-stay the time, upon mine Honour, And in the Greatnefs of my word, you die. SCENE [Exeunt Duke, &c. X. Cel. O 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. Rofe. I have more cause. Cel. Thou haft not, coufin; Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke Cel. No? hath not? Rofalind lacks then the love, Therefore devife with me, how we may fly; 3 And thou wilt show more bright, and SEEM more virtuous,] This implies her to be fome how remarkably defective in virtue; which was not the speaker's thought. The poet doubtless wrote, and SHINE more virtuous. i. e. her virtues would appear more splendid, when the luftre of her coufin's was away. 4 Which teacheth THEE-] The poet certainly wrote-which teacheth ME. For if Rofalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, he could not lack that love which Celia complains the does. Whither Whither to go, and what to bear with us; Cel. To feek my Uncle in the forest of Arden. Rof. Were't not better, Because that I am more than common tall, A boar-spear in my hand, and (in my heart Cel. What fhall I call thee, when thou art a man? And therefore, look, you call me Ganimed; But what will you be call'd? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena. Rof. But, Coufin, what if we affaid to steal The clownish Fool out of your father's Court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel? Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me. Leave me alone to woo him; let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; X 4 Та |