Never so much as in a thought unborn
Did I offend your highness.
DUKE 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:
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
DUKE 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:
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.
DUKE 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;
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 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
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.
DUKE 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 FREDERICK and Lords.]
CELIA
O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee be not thou more griev’d than I am.
ROSALIND
I have more cause.
CELIA
Thou hast not, cousin;
Pr’ythee be cheerful: know’st thou not the duke
Hath banish’d me, his daughter?
ROSALIND
That he hath not.
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?
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;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.
ROSALIND
Why, whither shall we go?
CELIA
To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
ROSALIND
Alas! what danger will it be to us,
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,
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 curtleaxe upon my thigh,
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.
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:
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;
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
To liberty, and not to banishment.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II
SCENE I. The Forest of Arden
[Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other LORDS, in the dress of foresters.]
DUKE SENIOR
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods