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Duke. (Advancing, c.] No more, no more.
Orl. (c.) Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not well breathed.
Duke. How dost thou, Charles ?
Duke. Bear him away.—What is thy name, young man ?
Orl. Orlando, my liege : the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke. I would thou hadst been son to some man else! The world esteemed thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy: I would thou hadst told me of another father! (Rosalind and Celia stand, R.- Exit Duke, with his
Train, L. Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest son ;-and would not change that calling, To be adopted heir to Frederick. [Retires back, L. c.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my
father's mind : Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given tears unto entreaties. Ere he should thus have ventured.
Cel. Gentle cousin,
well deserved :
Ros. Gentleman, (Giving him a Chain from her Neck.
Cel. Ay Fare you well, fair gentleman ! [Going.
Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down ; and that, which here stands
up, Is but a quaintaine, a mere lifeless block. Ros. (Going, R.] He calls us back. (Stops.] My pride
fell with my fortunes ;
I'll ask him what he would. (Returning.] Did you call,
Cel. (R. Š. E.) Will you go, coz ?
[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia, R. Orl. (Advances, c.] What passion hangs these weights
upon my tongue !
Enter LE BEAU, L.
Orl. (R. c.) I thank you, sir; and pray you, tell me this :
Thus must I, from the smoke into the smother;
SCENE IV.-An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Celia and ROSALIND, R. Cel. (R. c.) Why, cousin; why, Rosalind; Cupid have mercy !-Not a word ?
Ros. (L. c.) Not one, to throw at a dog.
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me.—But is all this for your
father? Ros. No, some of it is for my father's child. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world!
Cel. They are but burrs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery ; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.
Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burrs are in my heart.
Cei. Hern them away:
Ros. Oh, they take the part of a better wrestler than niyself.
Crosses, R. Cel. (L.) Oh, a good wish upon you !-But turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest; is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking for old Sir Rowland's youngest son ?
Ros. The duke, my father, loved his father dearly.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, my
father hated his father dearly ; yet I hate not Orlando.
Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake.
Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do.
Cel. Ha ! here comes the duke, with his eyes full of anger.
[Crosses to Rosalind,
Enler Duke FREDERICK, EUSTACE, Louis, and GENTLE
MEN, L. Duke. (c.) Mistress, despatch you with your safest
haste, And get you from our court !
Ros. Me, uncle ?
Duke. You, cousin :
Ros. (Advances and kneels.] I do beseech your grace,
Duke. Thus do all traitors ;
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.
enough. Ros. (Rising.) So was I, when your highness took his
[Advances to Duke. Duke. Ay, Celia ; we but stayed her for your sake; Else had she with her father ranged along.
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay,-
Why, so am I; we still have slept together,
Duke. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,
doom Which I have passed upon her-she is banished.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege ; I cannot live out of her company.
Duke. You are a fool ! - You, niece, provide yourself ; If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of
my word, you die !
(Exeunt Duke, 8c., L. Cel. (R.) Oh, my poor Rosalind ! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers ?-I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
Ros. (R.) I have more cause.
Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ;
Ros. That he hath not.
Cel. No! hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love
Ros. Why, whither shall we go ? [Crossing, L.
and mean attire :
Ros. Were it not better,