Duke. No more, no more.

[Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I befeech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke. How doft thou, Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot fpeak, my Lord.

Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young

man ?

Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest fon of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Duke. I would, thou hadft been fon to fome man elfe! The world efteem'd thy Father honourable,

But I did find him ftill mine enemy:

Thou fhould'st have better pleas'd me with this deed,
Hadft thou defcended from another Houfe.

But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth;
I would, thou hadft told me of another father.

[Exit Duke, with his train.

Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando.

Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's fon,
His youngest fon, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Rof. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his foul,
And all the world was of my father's mind:
Had I before known this young man his fon,
I fhould have giv'n him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he fhould thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle Coufin,

Let us go thank him and encourage him:
My father's rough and envious difpofition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd:
If you do keep your promises in love,

But juftly as you have exceeded all in promise,
Your mistress fhall be happy.

Ref. Gentleman,

Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune,

That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.

Shall we go, coz? [Giving him a Chain from her Neck: Cel. Ay, fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orla.

Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you?

parts

my better

Are all thrown down; and that, which here ftands up, Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.

Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for

tunes.

I'll ask him what he would.

Did you call, Sir ?:

Sir, you have wreftled well, and overthrown.
More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Rof. Have with you: fare you well.

[Exeunt. Rof. and Cel.

Orla. What paffion hangs thefe weights upon my tongue ?

I cannot speak to her; yet fhe urg'd' conference.

Enter Le Beu.

poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or fomething weaker, mafters 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 mifconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak 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 fhorter 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; whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neice;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,

And

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

[Exit

I. shall defire more love and knowledge of you.
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!

[Exit.

SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace. Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

Cel. Why, Coufin; why, Rofalind; Cupid have merr cy; 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 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 Child's father. Oh, how full of briers 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 fhake 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 Wreftler than my felf.

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 earneft: is it poffible on fuch a fudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?

Rof

จริ

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

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.

Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.

Cel. Why fhould I? doth he not deserve 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. Miftrefs, dispatch you with your fafest hafte, And get you from our Court.

Rof. Me, Uncle !

Duke. You, Coufin.

Within these ten days if that thou be'ft 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 my felf I hold intelligence,

Or have acquaintance with my own defires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
(As I do truft, 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 confift in words,
They are as innocent as grace it self:
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust 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 Highness took his Duke-
So was I, when your Highness banish'd him ;
Treafon 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,

[dom;

To

To think my poverty is treacherous.
Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftaid 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 she be a traitor,
Why, fo am I; we ftill have flept together,
Rofe at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,
Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

Duke. She is too fubtle for thee; and her fmoothness, 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 fhow more bright, and feem. more vir

tuous,

When he is gone; then open not thy lips:

Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

Which I have paft upon her; fhe 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 your self; If you out-ftay the time, upon mine Honour, And in the Greatnefs of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, & 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 cheerful; know'ft thou not, the Duke:
Has banish'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No hath not? (3) Rofalind lacks then the love;

(3)

Which

- Rofalind lacks then the Eove, Which teacbeth thee that thou and I am one] Tho' this be the Reading of all the printed Copies, 'tis evident, the Poet wrote ;