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The weird sisters.

      — Macbeth, Act IV Scene 1


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As You Like It

Act I

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Scene 1. Orchard of OLIVER’S house

Scene 2. A lawn before the DUKE’S palace

Scene 3. The DUKE’s palace


Act I, Scene 1

Orchard of OLIVER’S house

      next scene .


  • Orlando. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed
    me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st,
    charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there
    begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and 5
    report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me
    rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at
    home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my
    birth that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are
    bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, 10
    they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly
    hir'd; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for
    the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him
    as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the
    something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from 15
    me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a
    brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my
    education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of
    my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against
    this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no 20
    wise remedy how to avoid it.

[Enter OLIVER]

  • Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.
  • Orlando. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me
    up. 25

[ADAM retires]

  • Oliver. Now, sir! what make you here?
  • Orlando. Nothing; I am not taught to make any thing.
  • Oliver. What mar you then, sir?
  • Orlando. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a 30
    poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.
  • Oliver. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile.
  • Orlando. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What
    prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury?
  • Oliver. Know you where you are, sir? 35
  • Orlando. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.
  • Oliver. Know you before whom, sir?
  • Orlando. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are
    my eldest brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you
    should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better 40
    in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not
    away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as
    much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming
    before me is nearer to his reverence.
  • Oliver. What, boy! [Strikes him] 45
  • Orlando. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
  • Oliver. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
  • Orlando. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de
    Boys. He was my father; and he is thrice a villain that says such
    a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not 50
    take this hand from thy throat till this other had pull'd out thy
    tongue for saying so. Thou has rail'd on thyself.
  • Adam. [Coming forward] Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's
    remembrance, be at accord.
  • Orlando. I will not, till I please; you shall hear me. My father
    charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have
    train'd me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all
    gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in
    me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore allow me such 60
    exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor
    allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy
    my fortunes.
  • Oliver. And what wilt thou do? Beg, when that is spent? Well, sir,
    get you in. I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have 65
    some part of your will. I pray you leave me.
  • Orlando. I no further offend you than becomes me for my good.
  • Oliver. Get you with him, you old dog.
  • Adam. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in
    your service. God be with my old master! He would not have spoke 70
    such a word.
    Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM
  • Oliver. Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic
    your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla,
    Dennis! 75


  • Oliver. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?
  • Dennis. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access
    to you. 80
  • Oliver. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS] 'Twill be a good way; and
    to-morrow the wrestling is.


  • Charles. Good morrow to your worship.
  • Oliver. Good Monsieur Charles! What's the new news at the new 85
  • Charles. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news; that
    is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke;
    and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary
    exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; 90
    therefore he gives them good leave to wander.
  • Oliver. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banished
    with her father?
  • Charles. O, no; for the Duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her,
    being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have 95
    followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at
    the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own
    daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.
  • Oliver. Where will the old Duke live?
  • Charles. They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many 100
    merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood
    of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day,
    and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
  • Oliver. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?
  • Charles. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a 105
    matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger
    brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against
    me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he
    that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well.
    Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would 110
    be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come
    in; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint
    you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment,
    or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is
    thing of his own search and altogether against my will. 115
  • Oliver. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt
    find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my
    brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to
    dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee,
    Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of 120
    ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret
    and villainous contriver against me his natural brother.
    Therefore use thy discretion: I had as lief thou didst break his
    neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou
    dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace 125
    himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap
    thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he
    hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I
    assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one
    so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly 130
    of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush
    and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.
  • Charles. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come
    to-morrow I'll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again,
    I'll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship! Exit 135
  • Oliver. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I
    hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why,
    hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd and
    yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly
    beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and 140
    especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am
    altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler
    shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy
    thither, which now I'll go about. Exit
. previous scene      

Act I, Scene 2

A lawn before the DUKE’S palace

      next scene .


  • Celia. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
  • Rosalind. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and
    would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget
    a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any
    extraordinary pleasure. 150
  • Celia. Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I
    love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy
    uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I
    could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst
    thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd 155
    as mine is to thee.
  • Rosalind. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to
    rejoice in yours.
  • Celia. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to
    have; and, truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what 160
    he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee
    again in affection. By mine honour, I will; and when I break that
    oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear
    Rose, be merry.
  • Rosalind. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. 165
    Let me see; what think you of falling in love?
  • Celia. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal; but love no man
    in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety
    of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.
  • Rosalind. What shall be our sport, then? 170
  • Celia. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her
    wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
  • Rosalind. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily
    misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her
    gifts to women. 175
  • Celia. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes
    honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very
  • Rosalind. Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's:
    Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of 180


  • Celia. No; when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by
    Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to
    flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off 185
    the argument?
  • Rosalind. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when
    Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit.
  • Celia. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but
    Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of 190
    such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for
    always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How
    now, wit! Whither wander you?
  • Touchstone. Mistress, you must come away to your father.
  • Celia. Were you made the messenger? 195
  • Touchstone. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.
  • Rosalind. Where learned you that oath, fool?
  • Touchstone. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were
    good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught.
    Now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard 200
    was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.
  • Celia. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?
  • Rosalind. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
  • Touchstone. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear
    by your beards that I am a knave. 205
  • Celia. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
  • Touchstone. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you
    swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn; no more was this
    knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he
    had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancackes or 210
    that mustard.
  • Celia. Prithee, who is't that thou mean'st?
  • Touchstone. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
  • Celia. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough, speak no
    more of him; you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days. 215
  • Touchstone. The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise
    men do foolishly.
  • Celia. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that
    fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have
    makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 220


  • Celia. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
  • Rosalind. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.
  • Celia. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, 225
    Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news?
  • Le Beau. Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport.
  • Celia. Sport! of what colour?
  • Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you?
  • Celia. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
  • Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good 235
    wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
  • Rosalind. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.
  • Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your
    ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and
    here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. 240
  • Celia. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
  • Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons-
  • Celia. I could match this beginning with an old tale.
  • Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.
  • Rosalind. With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by 245
    these presents'-
  • Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's
    wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of
    his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him. So he serv'd
    the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, 250
    their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the
    beholders take his part with weeping.
  • Touchstone. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have
    lost? 255
  • Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.
  • Touchstone. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time
    that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.
  • Celia. Or I, I promise thee.
  • Rosalind. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in 260
    his sides? Is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we
    see this wrestling, cousin?
  • Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place
    appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.
  • Celia. Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. 265



  • Frederick. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own
    peril on his forwardness.
  • Celia. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully.
  • Frederick. How now, daughter and cousin! Are you crept hither to
    see the wrestling?
  • Rosalind. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. 275
  • Frederick. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you,
    there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger's youth
    I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to
    him, ladies; see if you can move him.
  • Celia. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 280
  • Frederick. Do so; I'll not be by.
    [DUKE FREDERICK goes apart]
  • Le Beau. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you.
  • Orlando. I attend them with all respect and duty.
  • Rosalind. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler? 285
  • Orlando. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. I come
    but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.
  • Celia. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years.
    You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength; if you saw
    yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the 290
    fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal
    enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own
    safety and give over this attempt.
  • Rosalind. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be
    misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the 295
    wrestling might not go forward.
  • Orlando. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts,
    wherein I confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent
    ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go
    with me to my trial; wherein if I be foil'd there is but one 300
    sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is
    willing to be so. I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none
    to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only
    in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when
    I have made it empty. 305
  • Rosalind. The little strength that I have, I would it were with
  • Celia. And mine to eke out hers.
  • Rosalind. Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you!
  • Celia. Your heart's desires be with you! 310
  • Charles. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to
    lie with his mother earth?
  • Orlando. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.
  • Charles. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a 315
    second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.
  • Orlando. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me
    before; but come your ways.
  • Rosalind. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man!
  • Celia. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the 320
    leg. [They wrestle]
  • Celia. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should

[CHARLES is thrown. Shout]

  • Orlando. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breath'd.
  • Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
  • Frederick. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? 330
  • Orlando. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de
  • Frederick. I would thou hadst been son to some man else.
    The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
    But I did find him still mine enemy. 335
    Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed,
    Hadst thou descended from another house.
    But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;
    I would thou hadst told me of another father.

Exeunt DUKE, train, and LE BEAU

  • Celia. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
  • Orlando. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
    His youngest son- and would not change that calling
    To be adopted heir to Frederick.
  • Rosalind. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, 345
    And all the world was of my father's mind;
    Had I before known this young man his son,
    I should have given him tears unto entreaties
    Ere he should thus have ventur'd.
  • Celia. Gentle cousin, 350
    Let us go thank him, and encourage him;
    My father's rough and envious disposition
    Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserv'd;
    If you do keep your promises in love
    But justly as you have exceeded all promise, 355
    Your mistress shall be happy.
  • Rosalind. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck]
    Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune,
    That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.
    Shall we go, coz? 360
  • Celia. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
  • Orlando. Can I not say 'I thank you'? My better parts
    Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up
    Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
  • Rosalind. He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes; 365
    I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir?
    Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
    More than your enemies.
  • Celia. Will you go, coz?
  • Rosalind. Have with you. Fare you well. 370


  • Orlando. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
    I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.
    O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!
    Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. 375

Re-enter LE BEAU

  • Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
    To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd
    High commendation, true applause, and love,
    Yet such is now the Duke's condition 380
    That he misconstrues all that you have done.
    The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
    More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
  • Orlando. I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this:
    Which of the two was daughter of the Duke 385
    That here was at the wrestling?
  • Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
    But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter;
    The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
    And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, 390
    To keep his daughter company; whose loves
    Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
    But I can tell you that of late this Duke
    Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece,
    Grounded upon no other argument 395
    But that the people praise her for her virtues
    And pity 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, 400
    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. 405
    But heavenly Rosalind! Exit
. previous scene      

Act I, Scene 3

The DUKE’s palace



  • 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
  • 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?


  • 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.
  • 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.
  • Celia. Thou hast not, cousin.
    Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke 500
    Hath banish'd me, his daughter?
  • 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.
  • 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