SCENE III-A room in the palace. Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. 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; 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 child's father: O, 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. 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 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. 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, despatch 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, Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; Duke F. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, 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, Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 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 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. 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, 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 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. 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. Ros. Why, whither shall we go? Cel. To seek my uncle. Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh, 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 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, To hide us from pursuit that will be made [Exeunt |