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Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrastler than myself!

Cel. 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?

Ros. The Duke my father lov’d his father dearly.

Cel. 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.

Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.

Cel. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?

Enter Duke [Frederick] with Lords.

Ros. 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 F.

Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,

And get you from our court.

Ros.

Me, uncle?

Duke F.

You, cousin.

Within these ten days if that thou beest found

So near our public court as twenty miles,