Shakespeare's First Folio Part 166

Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him

Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections

Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then my selfe

Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne?

Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando

Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?

Enter Duke with Lords.

Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke

Cel. With his eies full of anger

Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our Court

Ros. Me Vncle

Duk. You Cosen, Within these ten daies if that thou beest found So neere our publike Court as twentie miles, Thou diest for it

Ros. I doe beseech your Grace Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me: If with my selfe I hold intelligence, Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires, If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke, (As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle, Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne, Did I offend your highnesse

Duk. Thus doe all Traitors, If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace it selfe; Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor; Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?

Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough

Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome, So was I when your highnesse banisht him; Treason is not inherited my Lord, Or if we did deriue it from our friends, What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor, Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much, To thinke my pouertie is treacherous

Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake

Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake, Else had she with her Father rang'd along

Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay, It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse, I was too yong that time to value her, But now I know her: if she be a Traitor, Why so am I: we still haue slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together, And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans, Still we went coupled and inseperable

Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes; Her verie silence, and her patience, Speake to the people, and they pittie her: Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name, And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous When she is gone: then open not thy lips Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe, Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd

Cel. p.r.o.nounce that sentence then on me my Leige, I cannot liue out of her companie

Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe, If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor, And in the greatnesse of my word you die.

Exit Duke, &c.

Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe?

Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine: I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am

Ros. I haue more cause

Cel. Thou hast not Cosen, Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke Hath banish'd me his daughter?

Ros. That he hath not

Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one, Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle?

No, let my Father seeke another heire: Therefore deuise with me how we may flie Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs, And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you, To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out: For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale; Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee

Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?

Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs, (Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?

Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold

Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire, And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face, The like doe you, so shall we pa.s.se along, And neuer stir a.s.sailants

Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more then common tall, That I did suite me all points like a man, A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh, A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart Lye there what hidden womans feare there will, Weele haue a swas.h.i.+ng and a marshall outside, As manie other mannish cowards haue, That doe outface it with their semblances

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?

Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page, And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.

But what will you be call'd?

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

Ros. But Cosen, what if we a.s.said to steale The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court: Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?

Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me, Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away And get our Iewels and our wealth together, Deuise the fittest time, and safest way To hide vs from pursuite that will be made After my flight: now goe in we content To libertie, and not to banishment.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like Forresters.

Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile: Hath not old custome made this life more sweete Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods More free from perill then the enuious Court?

Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam, The seasons difference, as the Icie phange And churlish chiding of the winters winde, Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly perswade me what I am: Sweet are the vses of aduersitie Which like the toad, ougly and venemous, Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head: And this our life exempt from publike haunt, Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes, Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing

Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a stile

Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison?

And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles Being natiue Burgers of this desert City, Should in their owne confines with forked heads Haue their round hanches goard

1.Lord. Indeed my Lord The melancholy Iaques grieues at that, And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you: To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe, Did steale behinde him as he lay along Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood, To the which place a poore sequestred Stag That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt, Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat Almost to bursting, and the big round teares Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole, Much marked of the melancholie Iaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke, Augmenting it with teares

Du.Sen. But what said Iaques?

Did he not moralize this spectacle?

1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies.

First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame; Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more To that which had too much: then being there alone, Left and abandoned of his veluet friend; 'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard Full of the pasture, iumps along by him And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques, Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens, 'Tis iust the fas.h.i.+on; wherefore doe you looke Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there?

Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through The body of Countrie, Citie, Court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp In their a.s.sign'd and natiue dwelling place