Which teacheth Me that thou and I am one: Therefore devife with me, how we may fly; Cel. To feek my Uncle in the foreft of Arden. Rof. Were't not better, Because that I am more than common tall, A boar-fpear in my hand, and (in my heart That do outface it with their femblances. Cel. What fhall I call thee, when thou art a man? And therefore, look, you call me Ganimed; But what will you be call'd? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my No longer Celia, but Aliena. Which teacheth Me ftate: for if Rofalind had learn'd to think Celia one Part of her Self, She could not lack that love which Celia complains She does. My Emendation is confirm'd by what Celia fays when she first comes upon the Stage. 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; Devife the fitteft time, and fafeft way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight now go we in content To Liberty, and not to Banishment. [Exeunt SCENE, Arden FOREST. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lord like Forefters. N DUKE fenior. OW, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old cuftom made this life more fweet More free from peril, than the envious Court? (4) Here feel we not the Penalty.] What was the Penalty of Adam, hinted at by our Poet? The being fenfible of the Dif ference of the Seafons. The Duke fays, the Cold and Effects of the Winter feelingly perfuade him what he is. How does he not then feel the Penalty? Doubtlefs, the Text must be reftor'd as I have corrected it: and 'tis obvious in the Courfe of thefe Notes, how often not and but by Miftake have chang'd Place in our Author's former Editions. Sweet AS YOU LIKE IT. weet are the ufes of Adverfity, Vhich, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 283 And this our life, exempt from publick haunt, Ami. I would not change it; happy is your Grace, That can tranflate the ftubbornnefs of fortune nto fo quiet and so sweet a style. Duke Sen. Come, fhall we go and kill us venison? Being native burghers of this defart city, 1 Lord. Indeed, my Lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; Duke Sen. But what faid Jaques ? 1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimilies. Left Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 2 Lord. We did, my Lord, weeping and comm Upon the fobbing deer. Duke Sen. Show me the place; I love to cope him in thefe fullen hts. 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [E SCENE changes to the PALACE ago Duke. C AN it be poffible, that no man faw t It cannot be; fome villains of my Co Are of consent and fufferance in this. I Lord. I cannot hear of any that did fee her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreafur'd of their mistress. 2 Lord. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also miffing: Hifperia, the Princefs' Gentlewoman, Confeffes, that the fecretly o'er-heard AS YOU LIKE IT. nd the believes, where ever they are gone, hat Youth is furely in their company. 285 Duke. Send to his brother, fetch that Gallant hither: The be abfent, bring his brother to me, 1 make him find him; do this fuddenly; nd let not Search and Inquifition quail bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to OLIVER's House. Enter Orlando and Adam. 'HO's there? la. Adam. What! my young mafter? oh, W* my gentle mafter, h, my fweet mafter, O you memory fold Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? The bonny Prifer of the humorous Duke? o more do yours; your virtues, gentle master, h, what a world is this, when what is comely nvenoms him that bears it! Orla. Why, what's the matter? Adam. O unhappy youth, ome not within these doors; within this roof he enemy of all your graces lives: our brother (no; no brother; yet the fon, et not the fon; I will not call him fon f him I was about to call his father,) ath heard your praises, and this night he means nd you within it; if he fail of that, This is no place, this houfe is but a butchery; Abhor |