Complete Plays, The (324 page)

Charles

No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orlando

An you mean to mock me after, you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways.

Rosalind

Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!

Celia

I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.

They wrestle

Rosalind

O excellent young man!

Celia

If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.

Shout. Charles is thrown

Duke Frederick

No more, no more.

Orlando

Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed.

Duke Frederick

How dost thou, Charles?

Le Beau

He cannot speak, my lord.

Duke Frederick

Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?

Orlando

Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Duke Frederick

I would thou hadst been son to some man else:
The world esteem’d thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed,
Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth:
I would thou hadst told me of another father.

Exeunt Duke Frederick, train, and Le Beau

Celia

Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

Orlando

I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son,
His youngest son; and would not change that calling,
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Rosalind

My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father’s mind:
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventured.

Celia

Gentle cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him:
My father’s rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved:
If you do keep your promises in love
But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.

Rosalind

Gentleman,

Giving him a chain from her neck

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.

Re-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 misconstrues 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 lesser is his daughter
The other is daughter to the banish’d duke,
And here detain’d 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

S
CENE
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?

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.

Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords

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.

Rosalind

 
I do beseech your grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,
If that I do not dream or be not frantic,—
As I do trust I am not — then, dear uncle,
Never so much as in a thought unborn
Did I offend your highness.

Duke Frederick

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.

Rosalind

Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor:
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke Frederick

Thou art thy father’s daughter; there’s enough.

Rosalind

So was I when your highness took his dukedom;
So was I when your highness banish’d him:
Treason is not inherited, my lord;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What’s that to me? my father was no traitor:
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Celia

Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke Frederick

Ay, Celia; we stay’d her for your sake,
Else had she with her father ranged along.

Celia

I did not then entreat to have her stay;
It was your pleasure and your own remorse:
I was too young that time to value her;
But now I know her: if she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together,
And wheresoever we went, like Juno’s swans,
Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Duke Frederick

She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,
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 show more bright and seem more virtuous
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.

Celia

Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege:
I cannot live out of her company.

Duke Frederick

You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself:
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.

Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords

Celia

O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.

Rosalind

I have more cause.

Celia

 
Thou hast not, cousin;
Prithee be cheerful: know’st thou not, the duke
Hath banish’d me, his daughter?

Rosalind

That he hath not.

Celia

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.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.

Rosalind

Why, whither shall we go?

Celia

To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.

Rosalind

Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Celia

I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire
And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you: so shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.

Rosalind

Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and — in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will —
We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have
That do outface it with their semblances.

Celia

What shall I call thee when thou art a man?

Rosalind

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?

Celia

Something that hath a reference to my state
No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Rosalind

But, cousin, what if we assay’d to steal
The clownish fool out of your father’s court?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel?

Celia

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,
Devise the fittest time and safest 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

A
CT
II

S
CENE
I. T
HE
F
OREST
OF
A
RDEN
.

Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, like foresters

Duke Senior

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.’
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
I would not change it.

Amiens

Happy is your grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Duke Senior

Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads
Have their round haunches gored.

First Lord