If with myself I hold intelligence, Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; Thus do all traitors; Duke F. 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. [dukedom; Ros. So was I, when your highness took his 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. 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, 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 wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence, and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her. virtuous, When she is gone: then open not thy lips; 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 yourself; If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me, his daughter? Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Therefore, devise with me, how we may fly, Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Ros. A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a man? ACT I. 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 No longer Celia, but Aliena. [state; Ros. 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? Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, ACT II. [Exeunt, SCENE I. The Forest of Arden. Enter Duke senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, in the dress of Foresters. Duke S. Now my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke S. 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 gor'd. 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, Did steal behind him, as he lay along Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. Duke S. But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? 1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. To that which had too much: Then being alone, Yea, and of this our life; swearing, that we To fright the animals, and to kill them up, 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke S. Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in the Palace. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants. Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be some villains of my court 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed: and in the morning early, They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. 2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, the princess' gentlewoman, Confesses, that she secretly o'erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; If he be absent, bring his brother to me, [Exeunt. |