Imatges de pÓgina

SCENE changes to an Apartment in the



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Re-enter Celia and Rosaliad.
Cel. U HY, coufin; why, Rosalind; Cupid have

mercy' ; not a 'word!
Ros. Not one to throw at: a doga

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

Rof. Then there were two coufins laid up, when the one Thould be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any:

Cel. But is all this for your father?
Rof. (7) No, fome of it is for my child's father.
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.

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
Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you

in time, in despight of a fall;---but turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible on fuch a sudden you should fall into fo strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?'

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

(7) No, fome of it is for my father's child.] I have chosen to restores here the reading of the older copies, which evidently contains the poet'a sentiment, ' Refalind would say, “no, all my distress and melancholy " is not for my father; but some of it for my sweetheart, whom I hope “ to marry and have children by," In this sente lhe ftiles him her child's father,


will try

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you fhould love his fon dearly? by this kind of chase, I Mould hate: bim; for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.
Cel. Why should I ? doth he not deserve well?

Enter Duke, ruith 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. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haite, And get you from our court.

Rof. Me, uncle !

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

Ros. I do beseech your Grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me :
If with myself I hold intelligence,
Or have acquaintance with my own desires ;
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 itself :
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Roj. 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 Dukedom;. So was I, when your Highness banilh'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 much, To think my poverty is treacherous..


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Cél. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke. Ay, Celia, we but staid her for your

fake i Else had the 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 flept 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 art a fool; she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous,
When she is gone; then open not thy lips :
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,
Which I have paft upon her; she is banilh'd.

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

Duke. You are a fool: you, niece, provide yourself;. If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, &c. Cel. O my poor Rosalind; where wilt thou ? Wilt thou change fathers ! I will give thee mine : I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am.

Rofi. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; Pr’ythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke Has banil'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not. Cel. No. hath not? (8) Rosalind lacks then the love, Which teacheth me that thou and I am one :

Shali (8)

Rosalind lacks then she love, Wilhich teacherb thee that tbou and I om one] Tho' this be the readi of all the printed copies, 'tis evident, the poet: w of i Wich teacherb me--



face ;

Shall we be fundred ? thall we part, sweet 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 seek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou can'it, Fll go along with thee:

Rosi Wiy, whither shall we go?
Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Ardeny,

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

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attirez
And with a kind of umber smirch my
The like do you; fo shall we pass along,
And never ftir assailants.

Rof. Wer't not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
'That I did suit me alt 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)
We'll have a fwashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblancos.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man

RS. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own pages: 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.

or if Refalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, she could not lack that love which Celia complains she does. My emendatien is confirm’d by what Celia says when the first comes upon the stage.

Herein I see, thou lovist me not with the full weigbt that I love thee:&c. I could have taugbe my love to take tby father for mine; so woulds thou, if the truth of thy love to me were.

refo righteuilly simper'd as mine is to thee,


Ref. Bat, coufin, what if we allaid to steal
The clownish fool out of your r 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;
Devise the fitteft time, and safelt

To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight: now go we in content
To liberty, and not to banishment.



А с т ІІ.


SCENE, Ardon Forest.

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords

like Foresters.

Du k e senior.


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, (9) The seasons' difference ; as, the icy phang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even 'till I shrink with cold, I smile, and fay, This is not fattery; these are counfellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.

(9) Here feel we not the penalty:] What was the penalty of Adani, hinted at by our poet? the being sensible of the difference of the Teasons. The Duke says, the cold and effects of the winter feelingly persuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the penalty? doubtless the text must be reftor'd as I have corrected it! and 'tis obvious in the course of these notes, how often not and but by mistake have chang'd place in our auther's former editions,


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