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Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.

Cel. Why should I 'not? doth he not deserve well?

Enter Duke, with 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. Miftrefs, difpatch you with your

And get you from our court.

Rof. Me, uncle?

Duke. You, coufin :

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fafest hafte,

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 befeech 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 truft thee not.

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 :

Treafon is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,

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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 fovereign, hear me speak.

Duke. Ay, Celia; we but stay'd her for your fake,
Elfe 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 fhe be a traitor,
Why fo 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 fwans,

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: fhe robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt fhow more bright, and feem more "virtuous, When she is gone: then open not thy lips;

Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have paft upon her; fhe is banish'd.

Cel. Pronounce that fentence then on me, my liege;

I cannot live out of her company.

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

[Exeunt Duke, &c.

Cel. O my poor Rofalind! whither 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.

m your own remorfe ;]-the refult of your own feelings.
n virtuous,]-excellent.


Cel. Thou haft not, coufin;

Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No? hath not? Rofalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth me that she and I are one:
Shall we be funder'd? fhall we part, fweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.

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 upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, 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 forest of Arden.
Rof. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth fo far?
Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber fmirch my face;
The like do you; fo fhall we pass along,
And never ftir affailants.

Rof. Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did fuit 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)
'We'll have a swashing and a martial outside;
As many other ' mannish cowards have,

• “Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one :"
Pumber fmirch my face ;]-ftain my complexion brown.
curtle-ax]-cutlafs, broad-sword.

'mannish cowards]-male cowards.

I'll have a fwaggering.

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That do outface it with their femblances.

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

Rof. I'll have no worse 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 affay'd 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;
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.




The Foreft of Arden.

Enter Duke Jenior, Amiens, and two or three lords like forefters.

Duke Sen. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile,

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,
The feafons' 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 fhrink with cold, I fmile, and fay,--
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 publick haunt,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

Ami. I would not change it; Happy is your grace,
That can tranflate the ftubbornefs of fortune

Into fo quiet and fo sweet a ftile.

Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks it irks me, the poor dappled fools,

Being native burghers of this defert city,

Should, in their own confines, with forked heads
Have their round haunches gor'd.

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;

And, in that kind, fwears you do more ufurp

Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day my lord of Amiens, and myself,

Did steal behind him, as he lay along

Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that " brawls along this wood :
To the which place a poor fequeftred 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 fuch groans,
That their discharge did ftretch his leathern coat
Almoft to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe
In piteous chafe and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

forked beads]-barbed arrows.

u brawls]-purls, murmurs. O 3 Stood

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