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And here detain'd by her usurping Uncle
To keep his daughter company; whose 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 pity her for her good father's fake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.

Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well!
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother:
But, heav'nly Rosalind!

[Exit.

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Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rosalind. Cel. Why, Cousin; why, Rosalind; Cupid have mercy; not a word!

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.

Ros. Then there were two Cousins 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?

Ros. No, some 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 foolery ; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them,

Ros.

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Roj. 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.

Ros. 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 despight of a Fall; -- but turning these jefts out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it pofsible on such a sudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?

Ros. 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 chase, I should hate him; for my father hated his father dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando. Rof. No, faith, hate him not, my

fake. Cel. Why should I? doth he not deserve well?

not, for

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Enter Duke, with Lords. · Ros. 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. Mistress, dispatch you

with

your safest haste, And get you from our Court,

Rof. Me Uncle !

Duke. You, Cousin.
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our publick Court as twenty miles,
Thou dieft for it.

2 cry, hem, and have him.] A proverbial expression signifying, kaving for asking

Ros

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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 delires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
(As I do trust, 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 consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace it felf:
Let it suffice 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-

dom;
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 so niuch,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia, we but staid her for your sake;
Else had she 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 so am I; we still have Nept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together ;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

Duke. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,
Her very filence and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her:

Thou

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Thou art a fool; she robs thee of thy name,
3 And thou wilt show more bright, and shine more

virtuous,
When she is gone; then open not thy lips:
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,
Which I have past 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, Neice, provide your self; If you out-stay the time, upon mine Honour, And in the Greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

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Cel. O my poor Rosalind; 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.

Rose. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou haft not, cousin; Prythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke Has banish'd me his daughter ?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love, 4 Which teacheth me that thou and I am one: Shall we be fundred ? shall we part, sweet Girl? No, let my father seek another heir. Therefore devise with me, how we may fly;

3 And thou wilt snow more bright, and seem more virtuous, 1 This implies her to be some 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 cousin's was away.

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

Whither

Whither to go, and what to bear with us ;
And do not seek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs your self, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou can'st, I'll go along with thee.

Rof. Why, whither shall we go?
Cél. To seek my Uncle in the forest of Arden.

Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put my self in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmirch my face;
The like do you ; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

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 semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?
Ros. 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, Cousin, what if we aslaid 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 cogether; Devise the fittest time, and safest way

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