Cel.

Why, cousin; why, Rosalind. Cupid, have mercy! Not a word!

Ros.

Not one, to throw at a dog.

Cel.

No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me. But is all this for your father?

Ros.

No, some of it is for my father's child. Oh, how full of briers 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.* ^note

Ros.

I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in 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.

O they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Cel.

O, a good wish upon you; you will try in time in despight 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 deadly; yet I hate not Orlando.

Ros.

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

Cel.

Why should I? 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.

Duke.
Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our court.

Ros.
Me, uncle!

Duke.
You, cousin.
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros.
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 my 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.
Thus do all traitors.
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.

Ros.
Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.
Tell me wherein the likelihood depends.

Duke.
Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough.* ^note

Ros.
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.

Cel.
Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke.
Ay, Celia, we but staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her father rang'd along.

Cel.
I did not then intreat 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.* ^note

Duke.
She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness,
Her very silence and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her:† ^note



Then open not thy lips;
Firm and irrevocable is my doom,
Which I have past upon her; she is banish'd.

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

Duke.
You, niece, provide yourself;
If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt Duke, &c.

Cel.
O, my poor Rosalind, where 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;

Pry'thee be chearful; know'st thou not the duke
Has banish'd me his daughter?

Ros.
That he hath not.

Cel.
No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth me that thou and I are one.
Shall we be sundered? 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 the charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out:
For by this heav'n, now at our sorrows pale.
Say what thou can'st, I'll go along with thee.* ^note

Ros.
Why, whither shall we go?

Cel.
To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.

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

Cel.
I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Ros.
Were't not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man;
A gallant cutlass by my side,
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.

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 ye call me Ganimede.
But what will you be call'd?

Cel.
Something that has a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Ros.
But, cousin, what if we essayed 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;
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.* ^note [Exeunt. End of the First Act.

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