« PreviousContinue »
Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some man
else. The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy: Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth. I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exeunt Duke Fred. Train, and LE BEAU. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orl. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son, His
youngest son, and would not change that calling, To be adopted heir to Frederick.
Ros. My father lov’d sir Rowland as his soul,
[Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.Shall we go, coz? Cel.
Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless blocks.
8 Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.) A quintaine was originally a wooden object, generally in the figure of a man, used in martial exercises, as a mark against which weapons were directed. It afterwards became a sport, and was such in the time of Shakespeare.
Ros. He calls us back. My pride fell with my for
Will you go, coz ?
[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my
tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.
Re-enter LE BEAU.
0, poor Orlando! thou art overthrown.
Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
Orl. I thank you, sir; and, pray you, tell me this:
- the SMALLER is his daughter :) The old copies have taller, which is certainly wrong, because Rosalind in the next scene says, that she is “ than common tall.” Pope altered it to shorter ; but, as Malone observes, smaller comes nearer to the old reading, and we may add, that shorter and “ daughter” read dissonantly.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
[Exit LE BEAU.
A Room in the Palace.
Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. Cel. Why, cousin ; why, Rosalind.—Cupid have mercy Not a word ?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me: come, lame me with reasons.
Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad
Cel. But is all this for your father?
Ros. No, some of it for my child's father! O, how full of briars is this working-day world !
'No, some of it for my child's father.] This is according to the old copies ; but, as Coleridge suggests, (Lit. Rem. ii. 116,) we ought to read my father's child; an improvement both natural and delicate. However, with this observation, we feel bound, notwithstanding, to adhere to the ancient text.
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.
Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.
Cel. Hem them away.
Ros. O! they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.
Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall.—But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old sir Rowland's youngest son?
Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
Ros. No 'faith, hate him not, for my sake.
Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do.
Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.
Me, uncle? Duke F.
You, cousin : Within these ten days if that thou be'st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. Ros.
I do beseech your grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me.
Thus do all traitors :
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends. Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's
enough. Ros. So was I when your highness took his duke
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia : we stay'd her for your sake; Else had she 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 wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smooth
ness, Her very silence, and her patience,