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Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved

Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, High commendation, true applause, and love; His youngest son ;- - and would not change that Yet such is now the Duke's condition, calling,

That he misconstrues all that you have done. To be adopted heir to Frederick.

The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
And all the world was of my father's mind : Orl. I thank you, sir : and, pray you, tell me
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
Ere he should thus have ventured.

That here was at the wrestling?
Gentle cousin,

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by Let us go thank him, and encourage him :

manners; My father's rough and envious disposition But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter: Sticks me at heart.- Sir, you have well deserved : The other is daughter to the banished Duke, If you do keep your promises in love

And here detained by her usurping uncle, But justly as you have exceeded promise, To keep his daughter company; whose loves Your mistress shall be happy.

Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. Ros. Gentleman,

But I can tell you, that of late this Duke [Giving him a chain from her neck. Iath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; Wear this for me, one out of suits with for- Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues, That could give more, but that her hand lacks And pity her for her good father's sake; means.

And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady Shall we go, coz ?

Will suddenly break forth. - Sir, fare you well ! Cel. Ay. - Fare you well, fair gentleman. Hereafter, in a better world than this, Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. parts

Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare Fou

well! Are all thrown down; and that which here stands

[Erit LE BEAU. up

Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; It is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother :Ros. He calls us back. My pride fell with my But heavenly Rosalind!


. fortunes : I'll ask him what he would :— Did you call, sir ?

SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

More than your enemies.
Cel. Will you go, coz ?

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ! - Cupid Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. have mercy ! — not a word ?

[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA. Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast my tongue ?

away upon curs; throw some of them at me: I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. come, lame me with reasons.

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; Re-enter LE BEAU.

when the one should be lained with reasons, and O poor Orlando ! thou art overthrown:

the other mad without any. Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Cel. But is all this for


father? Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel Ros. No, some of it for my father's child.—0, you

how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon Duke F. Thus do all traitors; thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the If their purgation did consist in words, trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. They are as innocent as grace itself.

Ros I could shake them off my coat: these Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. burs are in my heart.

Ros. Yet


mistrust cannot make me a traiCel. Hem them away.

tor : Ros. I would try; if I could cry “Hem," and Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. have him.

Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter; Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.

there's enough. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler Ros. So was I when your highness took his than myself.

dukedom; Cel. O, a good wish upon you ! you will try in So was I when your highness banished him. time, in despite of a fall. - But, turning these Treason is not inherited, my lord; jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest : Is Or, if we did derive it from our friends, it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into What's that to me? my father was no traitor : 80 strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much, son?

To think my poverty is treacherous. Ros. The Duke my father loved his father Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. dearly.

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stayed her for your Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should

sake, love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I Else had she with her father ranged along. should hate him, for my father hated his father Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;
Ros. No, 'faith : hate him not, for my

I was too young

that time to value her,
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve But now I know her. If she be a traitor,

Why so am I: we still have slept together, Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together ; love him because I do. — Look, here comes the And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno's swans, Duke.

Still we went coupled and inseparable. Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her

smoothness, Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.

Her very silence, and her patience, Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your saf- Speak to the people, and they pity her. est haste,

Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name; And get you from our court.

And thou wilt shew more bright, and seem more Ros. Me, uncle ?

virtuous, Duke F. You, cousin;

When she is gone : then open not thy lips; Within these ten days if that thou beest found Firm and irrevocable is my doom So near our public court as twenty miles, Which I have passed upon her : she is banished. Thou diest for it.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my Ros. I do beseech your grace,

liege; Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. I cannot live out of her company. If with myself I hold intelligence,

Duke F. You are a fool. - You, niece, provide Or have acquaintance with mine own desires;

yourself : If that I do not dream, or be not frantic

If you outstay the time, upon mine honor, (As I do trust I am not), then, dear uncle, And in the greatness of my word, you die. Never, so much as in a thought unborn,

[Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords. Did I offend your highness.

Cel. O my poor Rosalind ! whither wilt thou go?.

man ?

Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. Because that I am more than common tall,
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. That I did suit me all points like a man?
Ros. I have more cause.

A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
Cel. Thou hast not, cousin :

A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
Pr'y thee, be cheerful: know'st thou not the Duke Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
Hath banished me, his daughter?

We'll have a swashing and a martial outside; Ros. That he hath not.

As many other mannish cowards have,
Cel. No? hath not! Rosalind lacks, then, the That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one.
Shall we be sundered ? shall we part, sweet girl ? Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jore's own
No; let

father seek another heir.

Therefore devise with me, how we may fly, And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
Whither to go, and what to bear with us : But what will you be called ?
And do not seek to take your change upon you, Cel. Something that hath a reference to my
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;

state :
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Say what thou canst, I 'll go along with thee. Ros. But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

The clownish fool out of your father's court ?
Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Would he not be a comfort to our travel ?
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,

Cel. He 'll go along o'er the wide world with
Maids as we are to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Leave me alone to woo him. Let 's away,

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, And get our jewels and our wealth together;
And with a kind of umber smirch my face; Devise the fittest time, and safest

The like do you: so shall we pass along,

To hide us from pursuit that will be made
And never stir assailants.

After my flight. Now go we in content,
Ros. Were it not better,

To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt.



SCENE I. — The Forest of Arden. Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,

This is no flattery: these are counselors, Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, in That feelingly persuade me what I am ! the dress of Foresters.

Sweet are the uses of adversity;

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in 'Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; exíle,

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Finds tongues in trees, books in the running
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods

More free from peril than the envious court ? Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,

Ami. I would not change it. Happy is your
The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang

grace, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind: That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Into so quiet and so sweet a style.


son ?


Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us a veni- Duke S. And did you leave him in this contem

plation ? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, – 2nd Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and comBeing native burghers of this desert city,

menting Should, in their own confines, with forked heads Upon the sobbing deer. Have their round haunches gored.

Duke S. Shew me the place : 1st Lord. Indeed, my lord,

I love to cope him in these sullen fits, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;

For then he 's full of matter. And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp

2nd Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. Than doth your brother that hath banished

To-day, my lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out

SCENE II. – A Room in the Palace.
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood :
To the which place a poor sequestered stag,

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants. That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,

them ? The wretched animal heaved forth such groans, It cannot be: some villains of my court That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Are of consent and sufferance in this. Almost to bursting; and the big round tears 1st Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. Coursed one another down his innocent nose The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool, Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early, Much markéd of the melancholy Jaques,

They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 2nd Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom Augmenting it with tears.

Duke S. But what said Jaques ? Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Did he not moralize this spectacle ?

Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, 1st Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes. Confesses that she secretly o’erheard First, for his weeping in the needless stream: Your daughter and her cousin much commend “Poor deer,” quoth he, “thou mak'st a testament The parts and graces of the wrestler As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; To that which had too much.” Then, being there And she believes, wherever they are gone, alone,

That youth is surely in their company. Left and abandoned of his velvet friends;

Duke F. Send to his brother : fetch that gallant “ 'T is right,” quoth he; “thus misery doth part

hither; The flux of company.” Anon, a careless herd, If he be absent, bring his brother to me; Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,

I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly; And never stays to greet him : “Ay," quoth And let not search and inquisition quail Jaques,

To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt. “Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'T is just the fashion. Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?”

SCENE III. — Before OLIVER's House.
Thus most invectively he pierceth through

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life : swearing, that we

Orl. Who's there?
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what 's worse, Adam. What! my young master? — 0, my
To fright the animals, and to kill them up,

gentle master; In their assigned and native dwelling place. O, my sweet master; 0, you memory

so oft

Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you

here? Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you? For in my youth I never did apply And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Why would you be so fond to overcome

Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The bony priser of the humorous Duke?

The means of weakness and debility: Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Know you not, master, to some kind of men Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; Their graces serve them but as enemies?

I'll do the service of a younger man No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master, In all your business and necessities. Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears O, what a world is this, when what is comely The constant service of the antique world, Envenoms him that bears it !

When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Orl. Why, what's the matter?

Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Adam. O, unhappy youth,

Where none will sweat but for promotion ; Come not within these doors; within this roof And having that, do choke their service up The enemy of all your graces lives :

Even with the having : it is not so with thee. Your brother (no, no brother; yet the son But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, Yet not the son ;

- I will not call him son — That cannot so much as a blossom yield, Of him I was about to call his father)

In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. Hath heard your praises; and this night he means But come thy ways, we'll go along together; To burn the lodging where you use to lie,

And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, And you within it: if he fail of that,

We'll light upon some settled low content. He will have other means to cut you off :

Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, I overheard him, and his practices.

To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.This is no place, this house is but a butchery; From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Here livéd I, but now live here no more. Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; me go ?

But at fourscore it is too late a week: Adam. No matter whither, so you come not Yet fortune cannot recompense me better, here.

Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg

[Exeunt. food ? Or with a base and boisterous sword, enforce A thievish living on the common road ?

SCENE IV. - The Forest of Arden.
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;

Enter ROSALIND, in boy's clothes ; CELIA, dressed I rather will subject me to the malice

like a Shepherdess; and TOUCHSTONE. Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! * Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were

crowns, The thrifty hire I saved under your father, Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, man's apparel, and to cry like a woman : but I When service should in my old limbs lie lame, must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and And unregarded age in corners thrown;

hose ought to shew itself courageous to petticoat: Take that: and He that doth the ravens feed, therefore, courage, good Aliena. Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; further. All this I give you. Let me be your servant; Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you


not weary.

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