on fuch a sudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Ro/. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you fhould love his fon dearly? by this kind of chase (3), 1 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 deferve well?

SCENE IX.

Enter Duke, with Lords.

Ref. 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. Miftrefs, difpatch you with your fafeft hafte, And get you from our Court.

Rof. Me, Uncle !

Duke. You, Coufin.

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our publick Court as twenty miles,
Thou dieft for it.

Rof. 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 defires
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
As I do truft, I am not, then, dear Uncle,
Never fo much as in a thought unborn
Did I offend your Highness.

Duke. Thus do all traitors

If their purgation did confift in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself.
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

(3) by this kind of chafe,] That is, by this way of following the argument. Dear is ufed by Shakespeare in a double sense, for beloved, and for hurtful, bated, baleful. Both fenfes are authorised, and both drawn from etymology, but properly beloved is dear, and bateful is dere. Rofalind ufes dearly in the good, and Celia in the bad fenfe.

Rof.

Rof. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor ; Tell me whereon 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 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, mistake me not so much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me fpeak.
Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftaid her for
Elfe had the with her father rang'd along.

your

fake;

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay;
It was your pleasure, and your own remorfe ;
I was too young that time to value her,
But now I know her; if the be a traitor,
Why foam I; we still have flept together,
Rofe at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's Swans,

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; the robs thee of thy name,

And thou wilt fhew more bright, and feem more virtuous (4).

When the is gone. Then open not thy lips :
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,

Which I have paft upon her. She is banish'd.

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

(4) And thou wilt fhew more bright, and SEEM more virtuous,] This implies her to be fome how remarkably defective in virtue; which was not the speaker's thought. The poet doubtlefs wrote, and SHINE more virtuous,

i.e. her virtues would appear more fplendid when the luftre of her coufin's was away. WARBURTON. The plain meaning of the old and true reading is, that when the was feen alone, fhe would be more noted.

L 2

Duke.

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

felf;

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

[Exeunt 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. I have more cause.

Cel. Thou haft not, coufin ;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the Duke Has banish'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No hath not? Rofalind lacks then the love (5), Which teacheth thee that thou and I are one.

Shall we be fundred ? fhall we pari, fweet Girl?
No, let father feek another heir.

my

Therefore devife with me, how we may fly;

Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not feek to take your change (6) upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out :
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel. To feek my uncle in the foreft of Arden.
Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold,
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,

(5)

Rofalind lacks then the love,

Which teccheth thee that thou and I are one.] The poet certainly wrote--which teachetb ME. For if Rofalind had learnt to think Celia one part of berfelf, the could not lack that love which Celia WARBURTON. complains the does. Either reading may ftand. The fenfe of the established text is not remote or obfcure. Where would be the abfurdity of faying, You know not the law which teaches you to do right.

(6) take your change upon you,] In all the later editions from Mr. Rowe's to Dr. Warburton's, change is alter'd to charge, without any reafon.

And

And with a kind of umber fmirch my face

The like do

you; fo fhall we pafs along,

And never ftir affailants.

Rof. 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 (7) upon my thigh,

A boar-fpear in my hand, and (in

;

my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
I'll have (8) a fwafhing and a martial outfide,
As many other mannith Cowards have,

That do outface it with their femblances.

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

Rof. I'll have no worfe 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 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. Let's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devife 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.

(7)

curtle are or curlace, a broad fword. (8) I'll have] Sir T. Hanmer, for we'll have.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I

Arden FOREST

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords like Forefters.

DUKE senior.

NOW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

Hath not old cuftom made this life more fweet
Than That of painted Pomp? are not these woods
More free from peril, than the envious Court?
Here feel we but the penalty (9) of Adam,
The Seafons' difference; as, the icy fang,
And churlith chiding of the winter's wind
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even 'till I fhrink with cold, I fmile, and fay,
This is no Flattery: thefe are Counsellors,
That feelingly perfuade me what I am.
Sweet are the ufes of Adverfity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wea

Years yet a precious jewel in his head (1):
And this our life, exempt from publick haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing.

(9) In former Editions, Here feel we not the Penalty-] What was the Penalty of Adam, hinted at by our Poet? The being fenfible of the Difference of the Seafons. The Duke fays, the cold and Effects of the Winter feelingly perfuade 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 Courfe of thefe Notes, how often not and but by Mistake have chang'd Place in our Author's former Editions. THEOBALD

(1) Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in bis bead :] It was the current opinion in Shakespeare's time, that in the head of an old toad was to be found a ftone, or pearl, to which great virtues were afcribed. This ftone has been often fought, but nothing has been found more than accidental or perhaps morbid indurations of the skull.