Act I, Scene 3

The DUKE’s palace

Enter CELIA and ROSALIND

• Celia. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy!
  Not a word?

• Rosalind. Not one to throw at a dog. 410

• 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 lam'd with reasons and the other mad without any.

• Celia. But is all this for your father? 415

• 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. 420

• 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. 425

• 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? 430

• Rosalind. The Duke my father lov'd 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. 435

• Celia. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS

• 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. 440

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

• Rosalind. Me, uncle?

• Frederick. You, cousin.
  Within these ten days if that thou beest found 445
  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, 450
  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. 455

• 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. 460
  Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

• 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; 465
  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. 470

• Frederick. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake,
  Else had she with her father rang'd 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, 475
  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. 480

• 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 485
  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. 490

• 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 and LORDS

• Celia. O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go? 495
  Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
  I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am.

• Rosalind. I have more cause.

• Celia. Thou hast not, cousin.
  Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke 500
  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 sund'red? Shall we part, sweet girl? 505
  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 charge upon you,
  To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; 510
  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, 515
  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, 520
  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, 525
  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. 530

• 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: 535
  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; 540
  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 545
  To liberty, and not to banishment. Exeunt