Shakespeare in the Digital Age

Act I

Scene 1
Enter Orlando and Adam.
ORLANDO  As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayst, 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                     10
bred better, for, besides that they are fair with their
feeding, they are taught their manage and, to that
end, riders dearly hired. But I, his brother, gain
nothing under him but growth, for the which his
animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him                        15
as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives
me, the something that nature gave me his countenance
seems to take from 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                            20
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 wise remedy
how to avoid it.                                                                                      25
Enter Oliver.
ADAM  Yonder comes my master, your brother.
ORLANDO  Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he
will shake me up.                                                        Adam steps aside.
OLIVER  Now, sir, what make you here?
ORLANDO  Nothing. I am not taught to make anything.                     30
OLIVER  What mar you then, sir?
ORLANDO  Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that
which God made, a poor unworthy brother of
yours, with idleness.
OLIVER  Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught                      35
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?                                                  40
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                             45
courtesy of nations allows you my better 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                               50
OLIVER, threatening Orlando  What, boy! ORLANDO, holding off Oliver by the throat  Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. OLIVER  Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?                                         55
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 take this
hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out                           60
thy tongue for saying so. Thou hast railed on thyself.
ADAM, coming forward  Sweet masters, be patient. For
your father’s remembrance, be at accord.
OLIVER, to Orlando  Let me go, I say.
ORLANDO  I will not till I please. You shall hear me. My                  65
father charged you in his will to give me good
education. You have trained me like a peasant,
obscuring and hiding from me all gentlemanlike
qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in
me, and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow                        70
me such 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.
Orlando releases Oliver.
OLIVER  And what wilt thou do—beg when that is
spent? Well, sir, get you in. I will not long be                                  75
troubled with you. You shall have some part of your
will. I pray you leave me.
ORLANDO  I will no further offend you than becomes
me for my good.
OLIVER, to Adam  Get you with him, you old dog.                               80
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 such a word.
Orlando and Adam exit.
OLIVER  Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I
will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand                      85
crowns neither.—Holla, Dennis!
Enter Dennis.
DENNIS  Calls your Worship?
OLIVER  Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to
speak with me?
DENNIS  So please you, he is here at the door and                                90
importunes access to you.
OLIVER  Call him in. Dennis exits. ’Twill be a good
way, and tomorrow the wrestling is.
Enter Charles.
CHARLES  Good morrow to your Worship.
OLIVER  Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news                     95
at the new court?
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                           100
exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich
the new duke. Therefore he gives them good leave
to wander.
OLIVER  Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter,
be banished with her father?                                                              105
CHARLES  O, no, for the Duke’s daughter her cousin so
loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together,
that she would have 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,                          110
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 merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say                      115 many young gentlemen flock to him every day and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
OLIVER  What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new
duke?                                                                                                     120
CHARLES  Marry, do I, sir, and I came to acquaint you
with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand
that your younger brother Orlando hath a
disposition to come in disguised against me to try a
fall. Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he                      125
that escapes me without some broken limb shall
acquit him well. Your brother is but young and
tender, and for your love I would be loath to foil
him, as I must for my own honor if he come in.
Therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to                       130
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 a thing of his own
search and altogether against my will.
OLIVER  Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which                  135
thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had
myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and
have by underhand means labored to dissuade him
from it; but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles, it is
the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of                             140
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                        145
any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace
himself on thee, he will practice 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—                        150
and almost with tears I speak it—there is not one so
young and so villainous this day living. I speak but
brotherly of him, but should I anatomize him to
thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must
look pale and wonder.                                                                        155
CHARLES  I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he
come tomorrow, 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.
OLIVER  Farewell, good Charles.                                Charles exits.  160
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
schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all
sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in                      165
the heart of the world, and especially of my own
people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprized. 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.                                              170
He exits.
Scene 2
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
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                                5
any extraordinary pleasure.
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                     10
my love to take thy father for mine. So wouldst thou,
if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously
tempered as mine is to thee.
ROSALIND  Well, I will forget the condition of my estate
to rejoice in yours.                                                                                 15
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 he hath taken away from
thy father perforce, I will render thee again in
affection. By mine honor I will, and when I break                          20
that oath, let me turn monster. Therefore, my sweet
Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
ROSALIND  From henceforth I will, coz, and devise
sports. Let me see—what think you of falling in
love?                                                                                                         25
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 honor come off again.
ROSALIND  What shall be our sport, then?                                            30
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                       35
doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
CELIA  ’Tis true, for those that she makes fair she scarce
makes honest, and those that she makes honest she
makes very ill-favoredly.
ROSALIND  Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to                 40
Nature’s. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in
the lineaments of nature.
CELIA  No? When Nature hath made a fair creature,
may she not by fortune fall into the fire?
Enter Touchstone.
Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune,                     45
hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the
ROSALIND  Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature,
when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the
cutter-off of Nature’s wit.                                                                    50
CELIA  Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither,
but Nature’s, who perceiveth our natural wits too
dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent
this natural for our whetstone, for always the dullness
of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. To                                       55
Touchstone. How now, wit, whither wander you?
TOUCHSTONE  Mistress, you must come away to your
CELIA  Were you made the messenger?
TOUCHSTONE  No, by mine honor, but I was bid to come                60
for you.
ROSALIND  Where learned you that oath, fool?
TOUCHSTONE  Of a certain knight that swore by his
honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his
honor the mustard was naught. Now, I’ll stand to it,                      65
the pancakes were naught and the mustard was
good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.
CELIA  How prove you that in the great heap of your
ROSALIND  Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.                         70
TOUCHSTONE  Stand you both forth now: stroke your
chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
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                               75
forsworn. No more was this knight swearing by his
honor, for he never had any, or if he had, he had
sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or
that mustard.
CELIA  Prithee, who is ’t that thou mean’st?                                          80
TOUCHSTONE  One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
CELIA  My father’s love is enough to honor him.
Enough. Speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped
for taxation one of these days.
TOUCHSTONE  The more pity that fools may not speak                    85
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.                                                                    90
Enter Le Beau.
ROSALIND  With his mouth full of news.
CELIA  Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their
ROSALIND  Then shall we be news-crammed.
CELIA  All the better. We shall be the more                                           95
marketable.—Bonjour, Monsieur Le Beau. What’s
the news?
LE BEAU  Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
CELIA  Sport? Of what color?
LE BEAU  What color, madam? How shall I answer you?                 100
ROSALIND  As wit and fortune will.
TOUCHSTONE  Or as the destinies decrees.
CELIA  Well said. That was laid on with a trowel.
TOUCHSTONE  Nay, if I keep not my rank—
ROSALIND  Thou losest thy old smell.                                                 105
LE BEAU  You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of
good 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                    110
yet to do, and here, where you are, they are coming
to perform it.
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.                        115
LE BEAU  Three proper young men of excellent growth
and presence.
ROSALIND  With bills on their necks: “Be it known unto
all men by these presents.”
LE BEAU  The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles,                  120
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 served the second,
and so the third. Yonder they lie, the poor old man
their father making such pitiful dole over them that                     125
all the beholders take his part with weeping.
TOUCHSTONE  But what is the sport, monsieur, that the
ladies have lost?
LE BEAU  Why, this that I speak of.                                                      130
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                135
music in 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.                                                                                             140
CELIA  Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay
and see it.
Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Charles, and Attendants.

DUKE FREDERICK  Come on. Since the youth will not be
entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
ROSALIND, to Le Beau  Is yonder the man?                                        145
LE BEAU  Even he, madam.
CELIA  Alas, he is too young. Yet he looks successfully.
DUKE FREDERICK  How now, daughter and cousin? Are
you crept hither to see the wrestling?
ROSALIND  Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.                    150
DUKE 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.                                                                              155
CELIA  Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
DUKE FREDERICK  Do so. I’ll not be by.
He steps aside.
LE BEAU, to Orlando  Monsieur the challenger, the
Princess calls for you.
ORLANDO  I attend them with all respect and duty.                          160
ROSALIND  Young man, have you challenged Charles the
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.                                                                          165
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 fear of your adventure
would counsel you to a more equal enterprise.                              170
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 misprized. We will make it our suit to
the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward.                        175
ORLANDO  I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny
so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your
fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial,
wherein, if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that                     180
was never gracious; if killed, 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                          185
made it empty.
ROSALIND  The little strength that I have, I would it
were with you.
CELIA  And mine, to eke out hers.
ROSALIND  Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceived in                 190
CELIA  Your heart’s desires be with you.
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                         195
modest working.
DUKE FREDERICK, coming forward  You shall try but
one fall.
CHARLES  No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat
him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded                         200
him from a first.
ORLANDO  You mean to mock me after, you should not
have mocked me before. But come your ways.
ROSALIND  Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
CELIA  I would I were invisible, to catch the strong                           205
fellow by the leg.
Orlando and Charles wrestle.
ROSALIND  O excellent young man!
CELIA  If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who
should down.
Orlando throws Charles. Shout.
DUKE FREDERICK  No more, no more.                                              210
ORLANDO  Yes, I beseech your Grace. I am not yet well
DUKE FREDERICK  How dost thou, Charles?
LE BEAU  He cannot speak, my lord.
DUKE FREDERICK  Bear him away.                                                    215
Charles is carried off by Attendants.
What is thy name, young man?
ORLANDO  Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir
Rowland de Boys.
I would thou hadst been son to some man else.
The world esteemed thy father honorable,                                         220
But I did find him still mine enemy.
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this
Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well. Thou art a gallant youth.                                     225
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
Duke exits with Touchstone, Le Beau,
Lords, and Attendants.
CELIA, to Rosalind
Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
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.                                                          230
ROSALIND, to Celia
My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
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 ventured.                                                       235
CELIA  Gentle cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him.
My father’s rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserved.
If you do keep your promises in love                                                  240
But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
ROSALIND, giving Orlando a chain from her neck
Wear this for me—one out of suits with Fortune,
That could give more but that her hand lacks                                    245
Shall we go, coz?
CELIA  Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman.
ORLANDO, aside
Can I not say “I thank you”? My better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up                       250
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
ROSALIND, to Celia
He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes.
I’ll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir?
Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown
More than your enemies.                                                                       255
CELIA  Will you go, coz?
ROSALIND  Have with you. To Orlando. Fare you well.
Rosalind and Celia exit.
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
O poor Orlando! Thou art overthrown.                                               260
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
Enter Le Beau.
Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved
High commendation, true applause, and love,
Yet such is now the Duke’s condition                                                265
That he misconsters all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous. What he is indeed
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
I thank you, sir, and pray you tell me this:
Which of the two was daughter of the duke                                      270
That here was at the wrestling?
Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners,
But yet indeed the smaller is his daughter.
The other is daughter to the banished duke,
And here detained by her usurping uncle                                           275
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                                                      280
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,                                                  285
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
I rest much bounden to you. Fare you well.
Le Beau exits.
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother,
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother.
But heavenly Rosalind!                                                                         290
He exits.
Scene 3
Enter Celia and Rosalind.
CELIA  Why, cousin! Why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy,
not a word?
ROSALIND  Not one to throw at a dog.
CELIA  No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
upon curs. Throw some of them at me. Come, lame                         5
me with reasons.
ROSALIND  Then there were two cousins laid up, when
the one should be lamed with reasons, and the
other mad without any.
CELIA  But is all this for your father?                                                      10
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.                                                   15
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. 20
CELIA  Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
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                                 25
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?
ROSALIND  The Duke my father loved his father dearly.
CELIA  Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his                      30
son dearly? By this kind of chase I should hate him,
for my father hated his father dearly. Yet I hate not
ROSALIND  No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
CELIA  Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?                          35
ROSALIND  Let me love him for that, and do you love
him because I do.
Enter Duke Frederick with Lords.
Look, here comes the Duke.
CELIA  With his eyes full of anger.
Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste,                                     40
And get you from our court.
ROSALIND  Me, uncle?
DUKE FREDERICK  You, cousin.
Within these ten days if that thou beest found
So near our public court as twenty miles,                                             45
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 Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,                                     50
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 FREDERICK  Thus do all traitors.                                               55
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself.
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.                                             60
Thou art thy father’s daughter. There’s enough.
So was I when your Highness took his dukedom.
So was I when your Highness banished him.
Treason is not inherited, my lord,
Or if we did derive it from our friends,                                                 65
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.
Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake;                                                70
Else had she with her father ranged along.
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,
But now I know her. If she be a traitor,                                                75
Why, so am I. We still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together,
And, wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans
Still we went coupled and inseparable.
She is too subtle for thee, and her smoothness,                                   80
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                                                                                                    85
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips.
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have passed upon her. She is banished.
Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege.
I cannot live out of her company.                                                          90
You are a fool.—You, niece, provide yourself.
If you outstay the time, upon mine honor
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Duke and Lords exit.
O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.                                 95
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
ROSALIND  I have more cause.
CELIA  Thou hast not, cousin.
Prithee, be cheerful. Know’st thou not the Duke
Hath banished me, his daughter?                                                         100
ROSALIND  That he hath not.
No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one.
Shall we be sundered? Shall we part, sweet girl?
No, let my father seek another heir.                                                    105
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,                                   110
Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.
ROSALIND  Why, whither shall we go?
To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?                                               115
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
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
And never stir assailants.                                                                       120
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 curtal-ax upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand, and in my heart                                         125 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.
What shall I call thee when thou art a man?                                      130
I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page,
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
But what will you be called?
Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena.                                                                 135
But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal The clownish fool out of your father’s court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me.
Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away                                            140
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.                                                       145
They exit.

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