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Ros.

Gentleman,

[Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me, one out of suits 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 say, I thank you? My better

parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands

up, Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.3 Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my

fortunes:
I'll ask him what he would:-Did you call, sir?-
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
More than your enemies.
Cel.

Will you go, coz?
Ros. Have with

you

well.

[Exeunt ROSALIND and Celia. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my

tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.

you: Fare

Re-enter Le Beau. O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel

you To leave this place: Albeit you have deservid

- one out of suits with fortune ;] Out of suits with fortune, I believe, means, turned out of her service, and stripped of her livery. STEEVENS.

3 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.) A quintain was a post or butt set up for several kinds of martial exercises, against which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. But all the commentators are at variance about this word, and have illustrated their opinions with cuts, for which we must refer the reader to the new edition, 21 vols. Svo.

2

High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the duke's condition,
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orl. 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 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 usurping uncle, To keep his daughter company; whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 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 sake; And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady Will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well; Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well!

[Exit Le Beau. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother:But heavenly Rosalind!

[Exit.

the duke's condition,] The word condition means character, temper, disposition.

[blocks in formation]

SCENE III.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter CELIA and RoSALIND.

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind;-Cupid have mercy!-Not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Ros. No, some of it for my child's father: 0, how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him.

Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.

Ros. 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 jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old sir Rowland's youngest son?

Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase," I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Ros. No 'faith, hate him not, for my sake.

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

Ros. 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. Mistress, despatch you with your safesť

haste, And get you from our court. Ros.

Me, uncle? Duke.

You, cousin: Within these ten days if that thou be'st found So near our publick court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. Ros.

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 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;

. By this kind of chase,] That is, by this way of following the argument. Dear is used by Shakspeare in a double sense for beloved, and for hurtful, hated, baleful. Both senses are authorised, and both drawn from etymology; but properly, beloved is dear, and hateful is dere. Rosalind uses dearly in the good, and Celia in the bad sense. Johnson,

o Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?] Celia answers Rosalind, (who had desired her " not to hate Orlando, for her sake,") as if she had said —"love him, for my sake: to which the former replies, “Why should I not [i. e. love him) ?"

your sake,

If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:-
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.

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

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for Else had she 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 she be a traitor, Why so am I; we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her

smoothness, Her very silence, and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool: she 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

remorse;] i. e, compassion.

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