Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleafure 'gainst his gentle niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praife her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake:
And, on my life, his malice 'gainft 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.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you
Thus must I from the fmoak into the fmother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother:
But, heav'nly Rofalind!

SCENE VIII.

Changes to an apartment in the palace.
Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

[Exit.

well!

[Exit.

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 reafons.

Rof. Then there were two coufins laid up; when the one fhould be lam'd with reafons, 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.

in

Rof. I could fhake them off my coat; thefe burs are 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 wreftler than

myself.

Cel.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a fall;-but, turning these jefts out of vice, let us talk in good earneft: is it poffible on fuck a fudden you should 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 fhould 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? doth he not deserve well?

SCENE IX. 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. Miftrefs, dispatch 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'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 confift in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:
Let it fuffice thee that I truft thee not.

Rof. Yet your mistrust 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 dukedom So was I when your Highness banish'd him;

Treafon is not inherited, my

VOL. II.

Lord:

U

Of

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 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 intreat to have her stay;
It was your pleasure, and your own remorfe;
I was too young that time to value her;
But now I know her; if the be a traitor,
Why fo am I; we still have flept together,
Rofe at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat together,
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's fwans,

Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

Duke. She is too fubtle for thee; and her smoothnefs, 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 shine more virtuous, When the is gone; then open not thy lips:

Firm and irrevocable is

my doom,

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

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

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

And in the greatnefs of my word, you die.

SCENE X.

[Exeunt Duke, Sc.

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 Rof. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou haft not, coufin:

Pr'ythee, be chearful; 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 me that thou and I am one:

Shall

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 do not feek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou can'ft, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither fhall we go?

Cel. To feek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmirch my face;
The like do you; fo fhall we pafs along,
And never ftir affailants.

Rof. Were't not better,

Becaufe that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all points like a inan?
A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh,

A boar-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannifh cowards have,

That do outface it with their femblances.

Cel. What fhall I call thee when thou art a man? Rof. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; And therefore look you call me Ganymede.

But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my

No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Rof. But, coufin, what if we affay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

ftate:

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;
Devife the fittest time, and fafest way
To hide us from purfuit that will be made
After my flight: now go we in content
To liberty, and not to banishment.

U 2

[Exeunt. ACT

ACT II. SCENE I.

Arden foreft.

Enter Duke fenior, Amiens, and two or three Lords like

Duke fenior. exile,

foresters.

Now, my co-mates, and brothers in

Hath not old cuftom made this life more fweet Than that of painted pomp? are not these woods More free from peril, than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, • The feafon's difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; • Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, • Even till I fhrink with cold, I fmile, and fay, This is no flattery: thefe are counsellors, That feelingly perfuade me what I am. < Sweet are the uses of adverfity,

• Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, "Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
• Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing.?

Ami. I would not change it; happy is your Grace,
That can translate the stubbornnefs of fortune
Into fo quiet and fo fweet a ftyle.

Duke fen. Come, fhall we go, and kill us venifon?

And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,

Being native burghers of this defart city,

Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor'd.

I Lord. Indeed, my Lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And in that kind fwears you do more ufurp

Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you.
To day my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did fteal behind him, as he lay along

Under