Liday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Rof. 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. Rof. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than my self. Cel. O, a good with upon you! you will try in time in defpight of a fall; but turning thefe jefts out of fervice let us talk in good earneft: 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? SCENE IX. 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 full of anger. eyes Duke. Miftrefs, difpatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. Rof. Me, uncle ! Duke. You. Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Rof. I do befeech your Grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: Or have acquaintance with my own defires, Duke. Thus do all traitors; B 3 They They are as innocent as grace it felf: 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. Or if we did derive it from our friends, Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftaid her for your fake, Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay; 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: Thou art a fool; fhe 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 past upon her; she is banish'd. Cel. Pronounce that fentence then on me, my Liege; I cannot live out of her company. If Duke. You are a fool: you, neice, provide your felf; you out-ftay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatnefs of my word, you die. [Exe. 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 Rof. I have more cause. Cel. Thou haft not, dearest coufin; Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'ft thou not the Duke Rof. That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rofalind lacks then the love Cel. To feek my uncle in the foreft of Arden, Rof. Were't not better, Because that I am more than common tall, A boar-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart 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 affaid to steal The The clownish fool out of your father's court? Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me. ACT II. SCENE I. [Exeunt. A Foreft, Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords like forefters." Duke Sen. OW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, sweet Than that of painted pomp? are not these woods Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head: And this our life, exempt from publick haunt, Ami. I would not change it; happy is your Grace Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venison? Being native burghers of this defart city, Should, in their own confines, with forked heads 1 Lord. Indeed, my Lord, The The melancholy Jacques grieves at that, Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out Duke Sen. But what faid Jaques ? Did he not moralize this fpectacle? 1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies. Duke Sen. And did you leave him in this contemplation? 2 Lord, |