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Enter Le Beu.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or fomething weaker, mafters thee.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deferv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition',
That he misconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orla. I thank you, Sir. And, pray you, tell me this
Which of the two was Daughter of the Duke
That here was at the wrestling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man

ners;

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter.
The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her ufurping Uncle
To keep his daughter company; whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleafure 'gainst his gentle Niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will fuddenly break forth.--Sir, fare ye well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare ye well!
Thus muft I from the fmoke into the fmother;

From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant Brother:

But, heav'nly Rofalind!-

the Duke's condition,] The word condition means character, temper, difpofition. So

[Exit.

Antonio, the Merchant of Venice, is called by his friend the best conditioned man.

SCENE

Cel.

SCENE VIII.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

HY, Coufin; why, Rofalind-Cupid have

WHY

mercy-not a word!

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be caft away upon curs, throw fome of them at me; come, lame me with reafons.

Rof. Then there were two Coufins laid up; when the one fhould be lam'd with Reafons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rof. No, fome of it is for my father's child'. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very peticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could fhake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Rof. I would try, if I could cry, hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.

Rof. O, they take the part of a better Wrestler than myfelf.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a Fall.--But turning these jests out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft. Is it poffible on fuch a fudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly,

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for my father's child.] The by Mr. Theobald, for my future old Editions have it, for my child's husband.

father, that is, as it is explained

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Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you fhould love his fon dearly? by this kind of chafe3, I fhould hate him; for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Ref. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.
Cel. Why fhould I? doth he not deferve well?

SCENE IX.

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.

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

Rof. Me, Uncle!

Duke. You, Coufin.

Within thefe ten days if that thou be'ft 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 itfelf.
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

3 by this kind of chafe,] That is, by this way of fellow ing the argument. Dear is ufed by Shakespeare in a double fenfe, for beloved, and for hurtful, hated, baleful. Both fenfes are autho

Ro

rifed, and both drawn from ety-
mology, but properly beloved is
dear, and hateful is dere.
falind 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 Highnefs took his Dukedom;

So was I, when your Highnefs banish'd him.
Treafon 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 fo much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear Sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke. Ay, Celia, we but ftaid 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 pleafure, and your own remorfe;
I was too young that time to value her,
But now I know her; if the be a traitor,
Why fo am I; we ftill 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 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. She is banish'd.

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 fpeaker's thought The poet doubtlefs

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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 fhe was feen alone, fhe would be more noted.

C 4

Cel.

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

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

felf;

If you out-stay the time, upon mine Honour,
And in the Greatness 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, Which teacheth thee that thou and I are one. Shall we be fundred? fhall we part, fweet Girl? No, let my father feek another heir.

6

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 yourfelf, and leave me out :
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.

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