Wear this for me—one out of suits with Fortune, That could give more but that her hand lacks means.— Shall we go, coz? CELIA. Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman. ORLANDO. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. ROSALIND. 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. CELIA. Will you go, coz? ROSALIND. Have with you.—Fare you well. [_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia._] ORLANDO. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown. Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. Enter Le Beau. LE BEAU. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved High commendation, true applause, and love, Yet such is now the Duke’s condition That he misconsters all that you have done. The Duke is humorous; what he is indeed More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. ORLANDO. 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 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.