Re-enter LE BEAU. O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man ners; But yet, indeed, the less taller is his daughter. But that the people praise her for her virtues, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit. SCENE III. A Terrace in front of the Palace. Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. Celia. WHY, cousin; why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word? Ros. No, not one to throw at a dog. Cel. Thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any. Cel. But is all this for your father? Ros. No, some of it for my father's child.1 Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world? Cel. 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. in Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try; if I could cry 'hem' and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. Oh! they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. Cel. Oh, 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? 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. Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court. Ros. Duke F. Me, uncle? You, cousin ; Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Ros. I do beseech your Grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; -As I do trust I am not-then, dear uncle, Duke F. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as Grace itself. Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.. Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's enough. Ros. So was I, when your Highness took his duke dom; So was I, when your Highness banish'd him : Or, if we did derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, Else had she with her father rang'd along. Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smooth ness, Her very silence, and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; And thou wilt shew more bright, and seem more vir tuous, When she is gone. Then open not thy lips; Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege; I cannot live out of her company. Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide your self; If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, [Exeunt Duke FREDERICK and Lords. Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No, hath not! Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? No; let my father seek another heir. Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. And never stir assailants. Ros. A boar-spear in my hand; and-in my heart That do outface it with their semblances. Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man? Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be call'd? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; No longer Celia, but Aliena. Ros. But, cousin, what if we essay'd 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; To hide us from pursuit that will be made |