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Rof. O they take the Part of a better Wreftler than my felf.

Cel. O, a good With upon you; you will try in time in defpight of a Fall; but turning thefe Jefts out of Service, let us talk in good earneft: Is it poffible on fuch a fudden you fhould fall into fo ftrange a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest Son?

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

Cel. Doth it therefore enfue that you should love his Son
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 Sake.

Cel. Why fhould I not? Doth not he 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 hafte, And get you from our Court.

Rof. Me, Uncle!

Duke. You, Coufin.

Within these ten Days if that thou beest 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 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 felf;
Let it fuffice thee that I trust thee not.

Rof. Yet your Mistrust can not make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke. Thou art thy Father's Daughter, there's enough. Rof. So was I when your Highness took his Dukedom, So was I when your Highness banish'd him;

VOL. II.

L

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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 fo much,
To think my Poverty is treacherous.
Cel. Dear Soveraign hear me speak.

Duke. Ay Celia, we ftaid her for your fake,
Elfe had the with her Father rang'd along.
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her ftay;
I was too young that time to value her,
But now I know her; if the be a Traitor,
Why fo am I; we ftill have flept together,
Rofe at an Inftant, learn'd, plaid, eat together,
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,
Still we went coupled and infeparable.

Duke. She is too fubtile for thee, and her Smoothnefs,
Her very Silence, and her Patience,

Speak to the People, and they pity her:

Thou art a Fool, the robs thee of thy Name,

And thou wilt show more bright, and feem 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 Sentence 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 Word, you

my

die.

[Exit Duke, &c.
Cel. O my poor Rofalind, whither 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 Caufe.

Cel. Thou haft not, Coufin,

Prethee be cheerful; know'ft thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his Daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No, hath not? Rofalind lacks then the Love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be fundred? Shall we part, fweet Girl?
No, let my Father feek another Heir.

Therefore

Therefore devife with me how we may fly,
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 Sorrows pale,
Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel. To feek my Uncle in the Foreft 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 fmutch my Face,
The like do you, fo fhall we pafs along,
And never ftir Affailants.

Rof. Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit me all Points like a Man;
A gallant Curtelax upon my Thigh,
A Bore-fpear in my Hand, and in my Heart
Lie there what hidden Woman's Fear there will;
We'll have a fwashing and a martial Outfide,
As many other mannish Cowards have,

That do outface it with their Semblances.

Cel. What fhall I call thee when thou art a Man? Rof. 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.

Ref. But Coufin, what if we affaid to fteal

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

To hide us from Pursuit that will be made
After my Flight: Now go we in Content
To Liberty, and not to Banishment.

La

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT II. SCENE I.

SCENE a Foreft.

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or thee Lords
like Foresters.

Duke Sen.

N

TOW my Co-mates, and Brothers in Exile,
Hath not old Custom made this Life more
fweet

Than that of painted Pomp? Are not thefe Woods
More free from Peril than the envious Court?
Here feel we not the Penalty of Adam,

The Seafon's Difference, as the Icie phang
And churlish chiding of the Winter's Wind;
Which when it bites and blows upon my Body,
Even 'till I fhrink with Cold, I fmile, and fay,
This is no Flattery: Thefe are Counsellors
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the Ufes of Adverfity,

Which like the Toad, ugly and venemous,

Wears yet a precious Jewel in his Head:

And this our Life exempt from publick Haunt,

Finds Tongues in Trees, Books in the running Brooks,
Sermons in Stones, and Good in every thing.

Amien. I would not change it; happy is your Grace
That can tranflate the Stubbornnefs of Fortune

Into fo quiet and fo fweet a Style.

Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us Venison?

And yet it irks me, the poor dapled Fools,

Being native Burghers of this defart City,

Should in their own Confines with forked Heads,
Have their round Haunches goar'd.

1 Lord. Indeed, my Lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And in that kind fwears you do more ufurp,
Than doth your Brother that hath banish'd you:
To Day my Lord of Amiens, and my felf,
Did fteal behind him as he lay along
Under an Oak, whose antick Root peeps out

Upon

Upon the Brook that brawls along this Wood,
To the which Place a poor fequeftred Stag
That from the Hunters Aim had ta'en a Hurt,
Did come to languifh; and indeed, my Lord,
The wretched Animal heav'd forth fuch Groans,
That their Discharge did ftretch his leathern Coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round Tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent Nofe
In piteous Chafe; and thus the hairy Fool,
Much marked of the melancholly Jaques,
Stood on th' extreameft Verge of the fwift Brook,
Augmenting it with Tears.

Duke Sen. But what faid Jaques?
Did he not moralize this Spectacle?

I Lord. O yes, into a thousand Similies.
Firft, for his Weeping into the needless Stream;
Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a Teftament
As Worldlings do, giving thy Sum of more
To that which had too much. Then being alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet Friends;
'Tis right, quoth he, thus Mifery doth part
The Flux of Company: Anon a careless Herd
Full of the Pasture, jumps along by him,

you

look

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And never stays to greet him: Ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fat and greazy Citizens,
Tis juft the Fashion; wherefore do
Upon that poor and broken Bankrupt there?
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The Body of the Country, City, Court,
Yea, and through this our Life, fwearing that we
Are meer Ufurpers, Tyrants; and what's worse,
To fright the Animals, and to kill them up

In their affign'd and native dwelling Place.

Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this Contemplation? 2 Lord. We did, my Lord, weeping and commenting Upon the fobbing Deer.

Duke Sen. Show me the Place,

I love to cope him in thefe fullen Fits,

For then he's full of Matter.

Lord. I'll bring you to him ftraight.

L3

[Exeunt.

SCENE

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