Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter :
Th' other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
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

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,27

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well.

[Exit LE BEAU.

Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; 28
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother: —
But heavenly Rosalind!

SCENE III. A Room in the Palace.

Enter CELIA and ROSALIND.

[Exit.

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.

27 Probably meaning "in a better state of things than the present." 28 That is, from bad to worse. A proverbial phrase, apparently.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Ros. No, some of it is for my father's child. O, how full of briers 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 Roland's youngest son?

Ros. The Duke my father loved his father dearly.

Cel. 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; 2 yet I hate not Orlando.

Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? 3 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.

1 A quibble is probably intended between falling in love and falling by a wrestler's hand.

2 In Shakespeare's time, it was just as correct to speak of hating dearly as of loving dearly; of a dear foe as of a dear friend. So in Hamlet, i. 2: "Would I had met my dearest foe in Heaven, or ever I had seen that day." 3 Celia here speaks ironically, her meaning apparently being, "It was because your father deserved well that my father hated him; and ought I not, by your reasoning, to hate Orlando for the same cause?"

Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.

Duke F. Mistress, dispatch 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
So near our public Court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros.

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;

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 F.

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.

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 dukedom ; So was I when your Highness banish'd him:

Treason is not inherited, my lord;

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.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

4 Purgation is proof of innocence; clearing themselves of the matter charged.

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake,
Else had she with her father ranged along.

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay;
It was your pleasure and your own remorse : 5
I was too young that time to value her;
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.

Duke F. 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

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 outstay the time, upon mine honour,

And in the greatness of my word, you 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 grieved than I am. Ros. I have more cause.

Cel.

Thou hast not, cousin.

Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the Duke
Hath banished me, his daughter?

Ros.

That he hath not.

5 Remorse, as usual, for pity or compassion.

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love
Which teacheth me that thou and I are 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 the charge 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 in the Forest of Arden.
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber6 smirch my face;
The like do you so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Ros.

Were't not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?

A gallant curtle-axe7 upon my thigh,

A boar-spear in my hand; and in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will8.
We'll have a swashing9 and a martial outside;
As many other mannish cowards have

6 Umber was a dusky, yellow-coloured earth, from Umbria in Italy. This was one of the old words for a cutlass, or short, crooked sword.

It was variously spelt, courtlas, courtlax, curtiax.

8 That is, "Whatever hidden woman's fear lies in my heart."

9 Swashing is dashing, swaggering. So in Fuller's Worthies of England: "A ruffian is the same with a swaggerer, so called, because endeavouring to make that side swag or weigh down, whereon he engageth. The same also with swash-buckler, from swashing or making a noise on bucklers."