Imatges de pàgina

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor; Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough.
Ros. So was I, when your Highness took his Duke-

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, inistake me not so much, ! To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia, we but staid her for your fake; 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 slept 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 will show more bright, and seem more

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.
And thou wilt few more

i. e. her virtues would appear bright, and seem more virtuous, more fplendid when the lustre This implies her so be some how of her cousin's was away. remarkably defective in virtue ;

WARBURTON. which was not the speaker's. The plain meaning of the old thought. The poet doubtless and true reading is, that when wrote,

The was seen alone, she would be and Shine more virtuous. more noted.



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

Duke. You are a fool - You, Niece, provide your


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

[Exeunt Duke, doc.

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Cel. O my poor Rosalind; where wilt thou Wilt thou change fathers! I will give thee inine : I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am.

Rof. I have more cause.

Cet. Thou hast not, cousin; Prythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke Has banish'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love”, Which teacherh thee that thou and I are one. Shall we be sundred? fhall we part, sweet Girl? No, let my father seek another heir. Therefore devise with me, how we may fly; Whither to go, and what to bear with us; And do not leek to take your change o upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out : For by this heav'n, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.

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Rosalind lacks then the sense of the established text is not love

remote or obscure. Where would Which teacheth thee that thou be the absurdity of saying, You

and I are one.] The poet know not the law which teaches certainly wrotem which teacheth you to do right. Me. For if Rosalind had learnt

take your change upon to think Celia one part of her- you,] In all the later editions, self, she could not lack that love from Mr. Rowe's to Dr. Warwhich Celia complains she does. hurton's, change is altered to

WARBURTON. charge, without any reason. Either reading may stand. The




Ref. Why, whither shall we go?
Cel. To seek 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 sooner than gold.

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

Ref. Were't not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant Curtle-ax' upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
I'll have $ a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish Cowards have,
That do outfące it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man?
Rof. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own

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, Cousin, what if we assaid 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. And get our jewels and our wealth together; Devise the fittest 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. [Exeunt.

Let's away,

7 - curtle-axe, or cutlace, a broad sword.

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




Arden F O R E S T.


Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords

like Foresters,

DUKE senior.
OW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more fweet
Than That of painted Poinp? are not these woods
More free from peril, than the envious Court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
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 shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no Flattery: these are Counsellors,
That feelingly persuade 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":
And this our life, exempt from pablick.haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

9 In former editions, Here feel our Author's former Editions. we not the Penalty:] What was

THEOBALD. the Penalty of Adam, hinted at 'Which, like the toad, ugly and by our Poet? The being sensible venomous, of the Difference of the Seasons. Wears yet a precious jewel in his The Duke says, the Cold and head:] It was the current Effects of the Winter feelingly opinion in Shakespeare's time, that persuade him what he is. How in the head of an old toad was to be does he not then feel the Penalty? found a stone, or pearl, to which Doubtless, the Text must be re- great virtues were ascribed. This ftor'd as I have corrected it: and stone has been often fought, bui 'tis obvious in the Course of these' nothing has been found more Notes, how often not and but by than accidental or perhaps morMiltake have chang’d Place in bid indurations of the skull.

Ami. I would not change it *. Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornnels of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke Sen. Come, shall we go and kill us venifon? ?
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own Confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches goard,

i Lord. Indeed, my Lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And in that kind swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother, that hath banilh'd you.
To day my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor sequestred stag,
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched Animal heav'd forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th'extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke Sen. But what said Jaques ?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?

i Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak' t a testament
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 :

I would not change it.] Mr. and makes Amiens begin, Hupor Upton, not without probability, is your Grace. gives, these words to the duke,


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