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 difpleafure 'gainft 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 muft I from the fmoke into the fmother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother;

But, heav'nly Rofalind!

SCENE VIII.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

[Exit.

Cel. Why, Coufin; why, Rofalind; Cupid have mercy; not a word!

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cél. 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 father's Child. Oh, how full of briars 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.

X 2

Rof.

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 Wrestler than my self.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in time, in defpight of a Fall; but turning these jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earnest: is it poffible on fuch a fudden you fhould 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 chafe, I fhould 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?

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, difpatch you with your safest 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.

2 cry, hem, and have him.] A proverbial expreffion fignifying, having for asking.

Rof.

Rof. I do befeech your Grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with my self 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 truft 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 Highness took his Duke-
dom;

So was I, when your Highness banish'd him;
Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or if we did defive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor :
Then, good my liege, miftake me not fo much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

your

fake;

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me fpeak.
Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftaid her for
Elfe had fhe with her father rang'd along.
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her ftay;
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 smoothness,
Her very filence and her patience,

Speak to the people, and they pity her:

X 3

Thou

309

Thou art a fool; fhe robs thee of thy name,

3 And thou wilt fhow more bright, and fhine more virtuous,

When she 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-stay the time, upon mine Honour, And in the Greatnefs of my word, you die.

SCENE

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

X.

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. Rofe. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou haft not, coufin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke
Has banifh'd me his daughter?
Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Rofalind lacks then the love,
4 Which teacheth me that thou and I am one:
Shall we be fundred? fhall we part, fweet Girl?
No, let my father feek another heir.

Therefore devife with me, how we may fly;

3 And thou wilt show more bright, and SEEM more virtuous,] This implies her to be fome how remarkably defective in virtue; which was not the speaker's thought. The poet doubtless wrote, and SHINE more virtuous.

i. e. her virtues would appear more splendid, when the luftre of her coufin's was away.

4 Which teacheth THEE-] The poet certainly wrote-which teacheth ME. For if Rofalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, he could not lack that love which Celia complains the does.

Whither

Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not feek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs your felf, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou can'ft, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither fhall we go?

Cel. To feek my Uncle in the forest of Arden.
Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth fo far!
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put my felf in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmirch my face;
The like do you; fo fhall we pafs along,
And never ftir affailants.

Rof. Were't not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all points like a man?
A gallant Curtle-ax upon my thigh,

A boar-spear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish Cowards have,
That do outface it with their femblances.

Cel. What fhall I call thee, when thou art a man?
Ref. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own
Page;

And therefore, look, you call me Ganimed;

But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Rof. But, Coufin, what if we affaid to steal The clownish Fool out of your father's Court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me. Leave me alone to woo him; let's away,

And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devife the fittest time, and fafeft way

X 4

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