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treat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.
Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me before ; but come your ways.
Rof: Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fel. low by the leg !
[Tkey wrifle. Rof. O excellent young man !
Cel. If I bad a thunderbolt in nine eye, I can tell who should down.
[Shout. Drike. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown.
Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How dost thou, Charles ?
Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ?
Orla. Orlardo, my Liege, the youngest son of Sir
Duke. I would thou hadít been fon to some man else!
[Exit Duke, with his train.
SCENE VII. Manent Celia, Rosalind, Orlando.
Gel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Rof. My father lov’d Sir Rowland as his soul,
Cel. Gentle cousin,
If you do keep your promises in love,
Cel. Ay, fare you well, fair Gentleman.
parts Are all thrown down; and that, which here stands up, Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.
Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for-
Cel. Will you go, coz ?
[Exennt Ror. and Cel. Orla. What passion hangs these weights upon my
Enter Le Beu.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
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 manners; But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter; The other's 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 Gifters.
Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well!
SC Ε Ν Ε
Re-enter Celia and Rosalind, Cel. Why, cousin ; why, Rosalind; Cupid have mercy; not a word !
Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.
Cei. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.
Rof. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lam’d with reasons, and the other mad
Cel. But is all this for
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, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday fcolery; 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.
Gel. Hem them away.
Rof. O, they take the part of a better wrefler than myself. VoL, II.
you love him
Cel. O, a good with upon you ! you will try in time, in defpight 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 ?
Rof. 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 chafe I should hate him for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for
fake. Cel. Why should I? doth he not deserve well ? SCE NE IX. Enter Duke, with Lords.
Rof. Let me love him for that ; and do because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.
Duke. Mistress, dispatch you with your safeft hafte, And get you from our court.
Rof. Me, uncle !
Duke. You, cousin.
Rof. I do beseech your Grace,
Duke. Thus do all traitors;
Rof. Yet your miftruft cannot make me a traitor ;
Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough.
Rof. So was I when your Highness took his dukedom;
Or if we did derive it from our friends,
Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.
Cel. I did not then intreat to have her stay;
Duke. She is too subtle for thee ; and her smoothHer very silence and her patience,
[ness, Speak to the people, and they pity her : Thou art a fool; Me robs thee of thy name, And thou wilt show more bright, and shine more virWhen she is gone; then open not thy lips : (tuous, Firm and irrevocable is my doom, Which I have pass’d upon her; she is banish’d.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my Liege; I cannot live out of her company.
Duke. You are a fool : you, niece, provide yourself; If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die.
[Exeunt Duke, go
Rof. I have more cause.
Rof. That he hath not.
Cel. No ? hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love, Which teacheth me that thou and I am one : Shall we be funder'd ? fhall we part, sweet girl ?