Enter CHARLES.

CHA. Good morrow to your worship.

OLI. Good monfieur Charles !-what's the new news at the new court?

CHA. There's no news at the court, fir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave 9 to wander.

OLI. Can you tell, if Rofalind, the duke's daughter,' be banished with her father.

CHA. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her coufin, fo loves her,-being ever from their cradles bred together, that fhe would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the

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good leave-] As often as this phrase occurs, it means a ready affent. So, in King John:

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Baft. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? "Gur. Good leave, good Philip.". STEEVENS.

the duke's daughter,] The words old and new [inferted by Sir T. Hanmer] feem neceffary to the perfpicuity of the dialogue. JOHNSON.

-the duke's daughter,] i. e. the banished duke's daughter.

MALONE. The author of The Revifal is of opinion, that the fubfequent words-her coufin, fufficiently diftinguish the person intended. STEEVENS.

2 for the duke's daughter,] i. e. the ufurping duke's daughter. Sir T. Hanmer reads here-the new duke's; and in the preceding fpeech-the old duke's daughter; but in my opinion unneceffarily. The ambiguous ufe of the word duke in these paffages is much in our author's manner. MALONE.

court, and no lefs beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.

OLI. Where will the old duke live?

CHA. They fay, he is already in the foreft of Arden,3 and a many merry men with him; ar 1 there they live like the old Kobin Hood of England: they fay, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.

OLI. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?

CHA. Marry, do I, fir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, fir, secretly to understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a difpofition to come in difguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, fir, I wreftle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, fhall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I muft, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook fuch difgrace well as he fhall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.

3 in the foreft of Arden,] Ardenne is a forest of confiderable extent in French Flanders, lying near the Meuse, and between Charlemont and Rocroy. It is mentioned by Spenfer, in his Colin Clout's come home again, 1595:

"Into a foreft wide and wafte he came,

"Where ftore he heard to be of savage prey;
"So wide a forest, and so waste as this,
"Not famous Ardeyn, nor foul Arlo is."

But our author was furnished with the scene of his play by
Lodge's Novel. MALONE.

--

OLI. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou fhalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to diffuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the ftubborneft young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didft break his neck as his finger: And thou wert beft look to't; for if thou doft him any flight difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practife against thee by poifon, entrap thee by fome treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other: for, I affure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and fo villainous this day living. I fpeak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

CHA. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: If ever he go alone again, I'll never wreftle for prize more: And fo, God keep your worship!

[Exit.

OLI. Farewell good Charles.-Now will I ftir this gamefter: 4 I hope, I fhall fee an end of him; for my foul, yet I know not why, hates nothing

4this gamefter:] Gamefter, in the prefent instance, and fome others, does not fignify a man viciously addicted to games of chance, but a frolickfome perfon. Thus, in King Henry VIII:

"You are a merry gamefter, my lord Sands."

STEEVENS.

more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all forts5 enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, fo much in the heart of the world, and efpecially of my own people, who beft know him, that I am altogether mifprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler fhall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.

SCENE II.

A Lawn before the Duke's Palace.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

CEL. I pray thee, Rofalind, fweet my coz, be merry.

Ros. Dear Celia, I fhow more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? > Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

CEL. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy banifhed father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, fo thou hadst been ftill with me, I could

of all forts-] Sorts, in this place, means ranks and degrees of men. RITSON.

kindle the boy thither,] A fimilar phrafe occurs in Macbeth, A&t I. fc. iii:

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enkindle you unto the crown." STEEVENS.

I were merrier ?] I, which was inadvertently omitted in the old copy, was inferted by Mr. Pope. MALONE.

have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would'ft thou, if the truth of thy love to me were fo righteously temper'd as mine is to thee.

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my eftate, to rejoice in yours.

CEL. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rofe, my dear Rofe, be merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise fports: let me fee; What think you of falling in love?

CEL. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earneft; nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.

Ros. What shall be our sport then?

CEL. Let us fit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

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Ros. I would, we could do fo; for her benefits

-mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel,] The wheel of Fortune is not the wheel of a housewife. Shakspeare has confounded Fortune, whose wheel only figures uncertainty and viciffitude, with the destiny that spins the thread of life, though not indeed with a wheel. JOHNSON.

Shakspeare is very fond of this idea. He has the fame in Antony and Cleopatra :

and rail fo high,

"That the false housewife, Fortune, break her wheel.”

STEEVENS.