SCENE changes to an Apartment in the
Palace...

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

Cel. WHY, coufin; why, Rosalind; Cupid have

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 cousins 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?

thee

Rof. (7) No, fome of it is for my child's father. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day-world Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could thake 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.

སྙ

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a fall; but turning thefe jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft: is it poffible on fuch a fudden you fhould fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

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

(7) No, fome of it is for my father's child.] I have chofen to restores here the reading of the older copies, which evidently contains the poet's fentiment. Realind would fay, "no, all my diftrefs and melancholy "is not for my father; but fome of it for my fweetheart, whom I hope "to marry and have children by." In this fenfe the files him her child's father

Cel

Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you fhould love his fon dearly by this kind of chase, I should 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 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, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court..

Rof. Me, uncle!

Duke. You, coufin.

Within these 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 myfelf I hold intelligence,

Or have acquaintance with my own defires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
(As, I do trust, 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.

Rof. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor;
Tell me, wherein 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 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, miftake me not fo much,.
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel

Cél. 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 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 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 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 fhe 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-flay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatnefs of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke, &a. Cel. O my poor Rofalind; where wilt thou 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'ft thou not, the Duke Has banifh'd me his daughter?

Rof. That he hath not.

Cel. No hath not? (8) Refalind lacks then the love, Which teacheth me that thou and I am one :

(8)

Rofalind lacks then the love,

Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one]

Shall

Tho' this be the reading of all the printed copies, 'tis evident, the poet

Which teacbeth me

fox

Shall we be fundred ? fhall we part, sweet girl
No, let my father feek 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 charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out
For by this heav'n, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou can'ft, F'll go along with thee.
Rof. Why, whither fhall 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 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. Wer't not better,

Becaufe 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-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will)
We'll have a fwashing and a martial outfide,
As many other mannish cowards have,

That do outface it with their femblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man? Rof. I'll have no worfe a name than Jove's own pages: And therefore, look, you call me Ganimed;

But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my ftate: No longer Celia, but Aliena.

or if Refalind had learnt to think Celia one part of herself, she could not lack that love which Celia complains the does. My emendation is confirm'd by what Celia fays when she first comes upon the stage.

Herein I fee, thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee :&c. I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldfi thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righterfly semper'd as minė is to thee.

Rof,

:

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;
Devile the fitteft time, and safest way
To hide us from purfuit that will be made
After my flight: now go we in content
To liberty, and not to banishment.

[Exeunt

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

DUKE Senior.

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, (9) The feafons' difference; as, the icy phang, 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; thefe are counsellors, That feelingly perfuade me what I am.

(9) Here feel we not the penalty.] What was the penalty of Adami, hinted at by our poet? the being fenfible of the difference of the feafons. 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 muft be reftor'd as I have corrected it and 'tis obvious in the course of these notes, how often not and but by mistake have chang'd place in our auther's former editions,

Sweet