Enter Le Beu.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or fomething weaker, masters thee.

Le Beu. Good Sir, 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 fpeak 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

ners;

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; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fisters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleasure '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 ye well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

1

I shall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare ye well!
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant Brother :
But, heav'nly Rosalind!

[Exit.

Cel.

SCENE VIII.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.
Re-enter Celia and Rosalind.

WHY, Coufin; why, Rosalind-Cupid have

mercy-not a word!

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

L

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 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 defpight of a Fall. But turning these jests out of fervice, let us talk in good earnest. Is it poffible on such a fudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

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

-for my father's child.] The by Mr. Theobald, for my future

old Editions have it, for my child's busband.

father, that is, as it is explained

C3

17

Cel.

1

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.

1

Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.
Cel. Why should I? doth he not deferve 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. Mistress, dispatch you with your fafest haste,

And get you from our Court.

Rof. Me, Uncle!

Duke. You, coufin.

Al

1

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 my own desires;
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 itself.
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

1

rised, and both drawn from ety mology, but properly beloved is dear, and hateful is dere. Rofalind uses dearly in the good, and Celia in the bad fenfe.

Rof.

1

:

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 Duke

dom;

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, mistake me not fo much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me fpeak.
Duke. Ay, Celia, we but staid 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 pleafure, 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 still have slept together,
Rofe at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,
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; 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 past upon her. She is banish'd.

4 And thou wilt shew more bright, and SEEM more virtuous,] This implies ber to be some how remarkably defective in virtue; which was not the speaker's thought. The poet doubtless.

wrote

-and SHINE more Virtuous.

1. e. her virtues would appear more splendid when the luftre of her cousin's was away.

WARBURTON.

The plain meaning of the old and true reading is, that when she was seen alone, the would be more noted.

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

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

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

SCENE X.

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 griev'd than I am. Rof. I have more caufe.

Cel. Thou hast not, coufin;

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? Rofalind lacks then the love,

Which teacheth thee that thou and I are one.
Shall we be sundred? shall we part, sweet Girl?
No, let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise 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 heav'n, now at our forrow's pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.