Imatges de pàgina
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Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you fhould love his fon dearly? by this kind of chafe 3, I should 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 deferve well?

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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.

Rof. 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 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 itself.
Let it fuffice thee that I trust thee not.

Ro

3 by this kind of chafe.] rifed, and both drawn from etyThat is, by this way of follow-mology, but properly beloved is ing the argument. Dear is ufed by Shakespeare in a double fenfe, for beloved, and for hurtful, hated, baleful. Both fenfes are autho

dear, and hateful is dere.
falind ufes dearly in the good,
and Celia in the bad fenfe.

Rof.

Rof. Yet your mistruft 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 Highness took his Dukedom;

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, miftake me not fo much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftaid her for your Elfe had the with her father rang'd along.

fake;

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 the be a traitor,
Why fo am I; we still have slept 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 inseparable.

Duke. She is too fubtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very filence and her patience,

Speak to the people, and they pity her.

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

And thou wilt fhow more bright, and feem more virtuous 4,

When fhe is gone. Then open not thy lips :
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

Which I have paft upon her. She is banish'd.

4 And thou wilt fhew 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 fplendid when the luftre of her coufin's was away.

WARBURTON.

The plain meaning of the old and true reading is, that when she was seen alone, she would be more noted. C4

Cele

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

Duke. You are a fool-you, Niece, provide yourfelf;

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

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

SCENE 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. Rof. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou haft not, coufin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful: knoweft thou not, the Duke Has banifh'd me, his daughter?

Ref. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Refalind lacks then the love, Which teacheth thee that thou and I are 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; 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 heav'n, now at our forrow's pale, Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.

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Rofalind lacks then the fenfe of the established text is not remote or obfcure. Where would be the abfurdity of faying, You know not the law which teaches you to do right.

love, Which teacheth thee that thou and I are one.] The poet certainly wrote-which teacheth For if Rofalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herfelf, fhe could not lack that love which Celia complains the does. WARBURTON. Either reading may ftand. The

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take your change upon you.] In all the later editions, from Mr. Rowe's to Dr. Warburton's, change is altered to charge, without any reason.

Rof.

Rof. Why, whither shall 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 myself 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. Wer'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-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
I'll have a swashing and a martial outfide,
As many other mannifh Cowards have,

That do outface it with their femblances.

Cel. What fhall I call thee, when thou art a man? Rof. I'll have no worfe 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 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 fitteft time, and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight: now go we in content To liberty, and not to banishment.

7-curtle-ax, or cutlace, a broad-fword.

[Exeunt.

I'll have] Sir T. Hanmer, for we'll have.

ACT

ACT II. SCENE I.

Arden FOREST.

.

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

N

DUKE Senior.

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

Hath not old cuftom made this life more fweet
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 Seafons' 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 smile, and say,
This is no Flattery: these are Counsellors,
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of Adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head 1:
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.

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