Dike. Bear him away.

young man?

What is thy name,

Orla. Orlando, my Liege, the youngest fon of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Duke. I would thou hadt 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
Hadft thou defcended from another house. [deed,
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth;
I would thou hadft told me of another father.

[Exit Duke with his Train.

Manent CELIA, ROSALIND, ORLANDO.

Gel. Were I my father, coż, would I do this? Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's fon, His youngest fon, and would not change that calling To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Rof. My father loved Sir Rowland as his foul, 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 fhould 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 deferved:
If you do keep your promifes in love,

But juftly as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress fhall be happy,

Ref. Gentleman,

(5) Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune,

(5) Wear this for me;] There is nothing in the fequel of this fcene exprefling what it is that Rofalind here gives to Orlando; nor has there been hitherto any marginal direc tion to explain it. It would have been no great burden to

Thatwould give more,but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz? [Giving him a chain from her neck. Cel. Ay, fare you well, fair gentleman. [parts Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you?---my better Are all thrown down; and that which here ftands (6) Is but a quintaine, a mere lifelefs block [up, Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for

tunes;

I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, Sir?

Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Raf. Have with you: fare you well.

f:

[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 Rofa-lind has found a copy of verfes in the woods writ on herfelf, and Celia afks her whether he knows who hath done this, Rofalind replies, by way of queftion, Is it a man? to which Celia replies, Ay, and a chain that you once wore... about his neck.

(6) Is but a quintaine, a poft or butt fet up for feveral kind of martial exercifes. It ferved fometimes to run against on ho feback with a lance; and then one part of it was always moveable, and turned. about an axis. But befides this, there was another quie taine that was only a poft fixed firmly in the ground, on which they hung a buckier, and threw their darts and fhot 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 juftoefs in the thought. "I am now, (fays Orlando), only a quintaine, a mere lifeless "block, on which love only exercifes his arms in jeft; the great difparity between me and Rofalind in condition not fuffering me to hope that ever love will make a ferious "matter of it." Regnier, the famous fatyrift who died about the time our Author did, applies this very metaphor to the fame fubject, though the thought be fomewhat different. Et qui depuis dix ans, jufqu'en fes derniers jours, A foutenu le prix en efcrime d'amours; Laffe enfin de fer vir au peuple de quintaine, Elle, &c.

-] This word fignifies in general

Ms Warburton.

Orla. What paffion hangs these weights upon my tongue!

I cannot speak to her, yet the urged conference. Enter LE BEV.

O poor

Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or fomething weaker, masters thee.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counfel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deferved
High commendation, true applaufe, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition,

That he mifconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humourous; 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.

[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, whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
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 fuddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

Ifhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!
Thus must I from the fmoke into the fmother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother:
But heavenly Rofalind !·

[Exit.

SCENE changes to an partment in the Falace..
Re-enter CELIA and ROSALIND.

Cel. Why, coufin; why, Rofalind; 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.

Ref. Then there were two coufins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reafons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Ref. (7) No, fome of it is for my child's father. Oh how fall of briars is this working-day-world!

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

Rof. I could shake them off my petticoats; thefe 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 myself.

Gel. O, a good with upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a fall?-But turning thefe jests »

(7) No, fime of it is for my father's child, I bave chosen to restore here the reading of the older copies, which evidently contains the Poet's sentiment. Rofalind would fay, " No,`all my distress and melancholy is not for my father bus "fome of it for my fweetheart, whom I hope to marry and * have children by." In this fenfe the Ryles him her child's a father.

out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft: is it poffible, on fuch a fudden, you fhould fall into fo trong aliking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof. The Duke my father loved his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore enfue that you fhould love his fon dearly? By this kind of chafe, 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 should I? doth he not deferve well?

Ref. 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, difpatch you with your fafest haste, And get you from our court..

Rof. Me, uncle !

Duke. You, coufin.

Within these ten days if that thou beft found
So near our public 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. frantic,,
(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 itself:
Let it fuffice thee, that I trust thee not.

Pof. Yet your miftruft cannot make me a traitor;

Tell me wherein the likelihood depends.