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, L fhould hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Raf. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.
Cel. Why fhould I not? 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'st found
So near our publick court as twenty miles,
Thou dieft for it.

Ref. I do befeech your grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself 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

itfelf:

Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not. Rof. Yet your miftruft cannot 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 highnefs took his duke So was I, when your highness banifh'd him: [dom; 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 so much, To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear fovereign, hear me fpeak.

Duke. Ay, Celia; we 't ftay'd her for your fake, Elfe had the with her father rang'd along.

Ge. I did not then entreat to have her stay, It was your pleasure, and your own remorfe; 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 slept together, Rofe at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's fwans, Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

Duke. She is too fubtile for thee; and her smooth

Her very filence, and her patience,

Speak to the people, and they pity her.

[nefs,

Thou art a fool: the robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt fhow more bright, and feem more virtuous,

When he is gone: then open not thy lips,

Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have past upon her; fhe is banish'd.

Cel. Pronounce that fentence then on me, my I cannot live out of he company.

[liege; Duke. You are a fool ;--You, niece, provide yourIf you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, [felf; And in the greatnefs of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, Sc. 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 cause.

Cel. Thou haft not, coufin;

Pry'thee, be cheerful: know'st 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 funder'd? fhall we part, fweet girl? No; let my father feek another heir.

Therefore devife with me; how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us:
And do not feek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canft, 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 so far?
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmirch my face;
The like do you; fo fhall we pass 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 curtle-axe upon my thigh,

A boar-fpear 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 mannifh cowards have,
C

Tha

That do outface it with their femblances.
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.

Rof. But, coufin, what if we affay'd 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 safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight: Now we go in content; To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt.

ACT II

SCENE I. The Foreft of Arden.

Enter Duke Senior, AMIENS, and two or three Lords like Forefters. Duke Sen.

Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,

The

The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang,
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: these are counsellors
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adverfity;

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
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 ftones, and good in every thing.
Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your

grace,

That can tranflate the stubbornness of fortune
Into fo quiet and fo fweet a stile.

Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venifon?
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this defert city,
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor❜d.

I 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 myself,
Did fteal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor fequeftered flag,
That from the hunter's 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
C 2
Almoft