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And pity her for her good father's fake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will fuddenly break forth. Sir, fare
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

you well;

I shall defire more love and knowledge of



Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well. Thus muft I from the smoke into the fmother;


From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother :

But, heav'nly Rofalind!


Reenter Celia, and Rofalind.

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 coufins lay'd 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, fome of it is for my father's child. O, how full of briers is this working-day-world!

Gel. 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 fhake them off my coat; thefe 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 wifh upon you! you will try in time, in defpite of a fall: but, turning these jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft: is it poffible, on such a sudden, you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old fir 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 chase I should hate him; for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Rof. No, 'faith; hate him not, for my sake.
Cel. Why fhould I? doth he not deserve well?

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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


Duke. Mistress, despatch you with your safest hafte, And get you from our court.

Rof. Me, uncle!

Duke. You.

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 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 frantick,
"As I do trust 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 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 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 so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear fovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftay'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;
But now I know her: if fhe be a traitor,
Why, fo am I; we still have flept 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. 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; fhe robs thee of thy name,

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

Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

Which I have pass'd 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; you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die.


[Exe. Duke, &c.

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, dearest coufin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'ft thou not, the duke
Has banish'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth me that thou and I are one:
Shall we be funder'd? fhall we part, fweet 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 canft, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither shall 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 fo far!
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmutch my face;
The like do you; so fhall we pass along,
And never ftir affailants.

Rof. Were't not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtelax upon my thigh,

A boar-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
I'll have a swashing and a martial outside,

As many other mannish 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, 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 affay'd to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court?
Would he not be a comfort to our tavel?

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 fitteft time, and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight: now go we in content
To liberty, and not to banishment!




A Foreft.

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


DUKE Senior.

OW, my comates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
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 season'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: these are counsellors
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adverfity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,


A a


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