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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,
Hadft thou defcended from another House.

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 promifes in love,

But justly as you have exceeded all in promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.

Rof. 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. Can I not fay, I thank you?

my better


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?
Sir, you have wrestled 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 these weights upon my tongue ?

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

O poor

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;
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 difpleasure 'gainst his gentle Neice;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,


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,

I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!
Thus must I from the fmoke into the fmother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant Brother :
But, heav'nly Rofalind!-


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
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 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 fo 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 felf:
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Rof. Yet your miftruft 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 Highnefs took his Duke-
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 fo much,



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

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 fhe 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; 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
Has banish'd me his daughter?

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;

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