Ros. 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. Cel. Will you go, coz? [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. Re-enter LE BEAU. Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you That he misconstrues all that you have done. Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this; That here was at the wrestling? 241 250 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But that the people praise her for her virtues I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 260 Orl. 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: 270 [Exit. SCENE III. A room in the palace. Enter CELIA and ROSALIND. 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. Cel. But is all this for your father? ΤΟ Ros. No, some of it is for my child's father. 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. 20 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 Rowland's youngest son? Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. 28 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: yet I hate not Orlando. Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? 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, Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest haste And get you from our court. Ros. Duke F. Me, uncle? You, cousin : 40 Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Ros. I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, As I do trust I am not-then, dear uncle, Duke F. Thus do all traitors: If their purgation did consist in words, Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 50 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: Or, if we did derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay; 60 70 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 passed upon her; she is banish'd. Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: I cannot live out of her company. 80 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. Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire Ros. A boar-spear in my hand; and—in my heart As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances. Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? 120 Ros. 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? C |