As You Like It, William Shakespeare [the false prince TXT] 📗

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. 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