LE BEAU. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners, But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter. The other is daughter to the banished Duke, And here detained 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 you well. Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. ORLANDO. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well! [_Exit Le Beau._] Thus must I from the smoke into the smother, From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother. But heavenly Rosalind! [_Exit._] SCENE III. A Room in the Palace Enter Celia and Rosalind. CELIA. Why, cousin, why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word? ROSALIND. Not one to throw at a dog. CELIA. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs. Throw some of them at me. Come, lame me with reasons. ROSALIND. Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any. CELIA. But is all this for your father? ROSALIND. No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world! CELIA. 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. ROSALIND. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. CELIA. Hem them away. ROSALIND. I would try, if I could cry “hem” and have him. CELIA. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. ROSALIND. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. CELIA. O, a good wish upon you! You will try in time, in despite of a fall. 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 with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son? ROSALIND. The Duke my father loved his father dearly. CELIA. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. ROSALIND. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. CELIA. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? Enter Duke Frederick with Lords. ROSALIND. Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do.—Look, here comes the Duke. CELIA. With his eyes full of anger. DUKE FREDERICK. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. ROSALIND. Me, uncle? DUKE FREDERICK. You, cousin. Within these ten days if that thou be’st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it.