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Dike. Bcar him away. "What is thy name,
Orla. Orlando, my Liege, the youngest fon of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke. I would thou hadīt been fon to fome man The world esteemed thy father honourable, [elfe: But I did find him ftill mine enemy:
Thou shouldest have better pleafed me with this Hadst thou descended from arother house. [deed, But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth; I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exit Duke with his Train. Manent CELIA, ROSALIND, ORLANDO. Cel. Were I my father, což, would I do this?
Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's ron, His youngeftfon, and would not change that calling To be adopted heir to Frederick.
Rof. My father loved Sir Rowland as his souls And all the world was of my father's mind; Had I before known this young man his fon, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have 'ventured.
Cel. Gentle coufin,' Let us go thank him, and encourage him; My father's rough and envious difpofition Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved: If you do keep your promises in love, But justly as you have exceeded all promise, Your miftress fhall be happy, i
Rof. Gentleman, (5) Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune,
(5) Wcer this for me ; ] There is nothing in the sequel of this scene expreffing what it is that Rosalind here gives to Orlando; nor has there been hitherto any marginal direc tion to explain it. I would have been no great burden to
Thatwould give mare,but that her hand lacks means.
Lel. Ay; fare you well, fair gentleman. * [parts
Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you!...my better
- [Exeunt Rof. and Cel. the editor's fagacity to have fupplied the note I have given in the margin: for afterwards, in the third act, when Rofalind has found a copy of verses in the woods writ on here felf, and Celia asks her whether flie knows who hath done this, Rosalind replies, by way of question, Is it a man! to which Celia replies, Ay, and a chain that you once wore. .. about his neck.
(6) Is but a quintaine, -1 This word fignifies in general a pot or butt set up for several kind of martial exercifes. It ferved sometimes to run against on ho felrack with a lance; and then one part of it was always moveable, and curacd. about an axis. But besides this, there was another quinam taine that was only a post fixed firmly in the ground, on which they hung a buckler, and threw their darts and hot their arrows against it; and to this kind of quintaine it is that Shakespeare here alludes; and taking it in this latter fenfe, there is an extreme beauty and justoessin i he thought. " I am now, (fays Orlando), only a quiotaine, a mere l.felels. " block, on which love only exercises his arms in je!t; the " great disparity between me and Rosalind in condition not " fuffering me to hope that ever love will make a furious “ matter of it.” Regnier, the fainous satyrist who died aboue the time our Author did, applies this very metaphor to the fame subject, though the thought be somewhat diiferent.
Et qui depuis dix ans, j'yu'en ses derniers jours,
Orla. What pallion hangs these weights upon
my tongue ! I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
Enter LE BEU.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
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. (manners:
Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter; The other's daughter to the banished Duke, And here detained by her ufurping uncle To keep his daughter company, whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of filters. But I can tell you, that of late this Duke Hath ta'en displeasure '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, this malice 'gainst the Lady, Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well; Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well! Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother: But heavenly Rosalind !
SCENE changes to an -partment in the Palace.
Re-enter CELIA and ROSAL IND. Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rofalind; Cupid have mercy; not a word!
Ros. 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; come in láme me with reasons:
Rof. Then there were two cousins laid up, when: the one should be lamed with reafons, and the other: mad without any.
Cel. But is all this for your father?" Rof. (7) No, fome of it is for my chill's father. Oh how fa!l of briars is this working-day-world!
Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee. in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.
Rof. I could Thake them off my: petticoats; these.: burs are in
heart... Cel. Hem them away.
Ref. I would try, if I could cry. heni, and have him.
Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affe&tions.
Rof. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you:
will time, in despight of a fall!--But turning these jelts
(7) No, fime of it is free my father's child. I have chofen" to restore here the reading of the older copies, which evidenia lý contains the Poet's feriiinent. Rofalind would say, ". No, " alli my distress and melancholy is not for my father buši
fume of it for my sweetheart, whom I hope to marry andí “ have children by.” In this sense flie Bylos him herois's a father,
And get you
out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, you fhould fall into so strong aliking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon? Ref. The Duke
father loved his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? B.y this kind of chase, I fhould hate him; for miy father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
Rof. No, faith, hate him not, for my fake.
Enter DUKE, with Lords.
love him because I do. Look, here comes the. Duke. his
. Duke. Mistress, dispatch you with your safesthalte, .
from our court.. Rof Me, unele !
Duke. You, cousin.
Rof. I do beseech your Grace;
Duke. Thus do all traiters;
Prof. Yet your niftrust cannot make me a traitor; Tell me wherein the likelihood depends.