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Duke. No more, no more.
[Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How doft thou, Charles?
Le Beu. He cannot speak, my Lord.
Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young
Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke. I would, thou hadst been fon to fome man else! The world efteem'd thy Father honourable,
But I did find him ftill mine enemy:
Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this deed,
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth;
[Exit Duke, with his train.
Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Rof. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his foul,
Cel. Gentle Coufin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd:
If you do keep your promifes in love,
But justly as you have exceeded all in promise,
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. Can I not fay, I thank you?
parts Are all thrown down; and that, which here ftands Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.
Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for
I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, Sir?
Cel. Will you go, coz?
Rof. Have with
you: fare you well.
[Exeunt Rof. and Cel.
Orla. What paffion hangs these weights upon my tongue ?
I cannot speak to her; yet fhe urg'd conference.
Enter Le Beu.
Orlando! thou art overthrown; Or Charles, or fomething weaker, masters thee. Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd High commendation, true applause, and love; Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition, That he misconftrues 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
But yet, indeed, the fhorter is his daughter;
But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake;
I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
SCENE changes to an Apartment in the Palace. Re-enter 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 laid up; when the one should 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 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 shake 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 Wrestler than my self.
Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a Fall; but turning thefe jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earnest: is it poffible on fuch 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 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
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 safest haste, And get you from our Court,
Rof. Me, Uncle !
Duke. You, Coufin.
Within these ten days if that thou be'ft found
Rof. I do befeech your Grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
Or have acquaintance with my own defires;
Duke. Thus do all traitors;
If their purgation did confift in words,
Rof. Yet your miftruft cannot make me a traitor;
Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough.
Or if we did derive it from our friends,
To think my poverty is treacherous.
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;
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; fhe robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt fhow more bright, and feem more vir
When fhe 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 felf; If you out-ftay the time, upon mine Honour, And in the Greatness of my word, you die.
[Exeunt 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, coufin;
Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'ft thou not, the Duke
Rof. That he hath not.
Cel. No hath not? (3) Rofalind lacks then the love;.
Rofalind lacks then the Love,
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one]
Tho' this be the Reading of all the printed Copies, 'tis evi
dent, the Poet wrote;