Cel.
Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

Orla.
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.

Ros.
My father lov'd 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 giv'n him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Cel.
Gentle Cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him;
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd:

If you do keep your promises in love,
But justly as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.

Ros.
Gentleman,
Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune,^{8 note}
That could 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.

Orla.
Can I not say, I thank you?—my better parts
Are all thrown down; and that, which here stands up,
Is but a quintaine,^{9 note}



a meer lifeless block.

Ros.
He calls us back—my pride fell with my fortunes.
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?

Ros.
Have with you—Fare you well. [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.

Orla.
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
I cannot speak to her; yet she urg'd conference.

Enter Le Beu.
O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.

Le Beu.
Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the Duke's condition,^{1 note}
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More suits 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?

Le Beu.
Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter.
The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping Uncle
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
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 sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth.—Sir, fare ye 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 ye well!
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant Brother:
But, heav'nly Rosalind!— [Exit.

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