LE BEAU You must if you stay here, for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.
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 Is yonder the man?
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.
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.
CELIA Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
DUKE FREDERICK Do SO. I’ll not be by.
He stands aside
LE BEAU (to Orlando) Monsieur the challenger, the Princess calls for you.
ORLANDO I attend them with all respect and duty.
ROSALIND Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?
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.
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 judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. 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.
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 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 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 you.
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 modest working.
DUKE FREDERICK 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 him from a first.
ORLANDO You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before. But come your ways.
ROSALIND (to Orlando) Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
CELIA I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.
Charles and Orlando 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.
ORLANDO Yes, I beseech your grace.
I am not yet well breathed.
DUKE FREDERICK How dost thou, Charles?
LE BEAU He cannot speak, my lord.
DUKE FREDERICK Bear him away.
Attendants carry Charles off
What is thy name, young man?
ORLANDO Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois.
DUKE FREDERICK
I would thou hadst been son to some man else.
The world esteemed thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy.
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed
Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth.
I would thou hadst told me of another father.
Exeunt Duke Frederick, Le Beau, [Touchstone,] Lords, and attendants
CELIA (to Rosalind)
Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
ORLANDO
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.
ROSALIND
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.
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
But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
ROSALIND (giving him a chain from her neck) Gentleman, Wear this for me—one out of suits with fortune, That could give more but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz?
CELIA Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
Rosalind and Celia turn to go
ORLANDO (aside)
Can I not say ‘I thank you’? My better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
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.
CELIA Will you go, coz?
ROSALIND Have with you. (To Orlando) Fare you well.
Exeunt Rosalind and Celia
ORLANDO
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.Enter Le Beau
O poor Orlando! Thou art overthrown.
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
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
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.
ORLANDO
I thank you, sir. And pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke
That here was at the wrestling?
LE BEAU
Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners—
But yet indeed the shorter is his daughter.
The other is daughter to the banished Duke,
And here detained 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,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
ORLANDO
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.—
But heavenly Rosalind! Exit
13. 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 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?
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.
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.
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 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 son dearly? By this kind of chase I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
ROSALIND No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
CELIA Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords
ROSALIND Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.
CELIA With his eyes full of anger.
DUKE FREDERICK (to Rosalind) Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, 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, 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,
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.
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 banished 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 stayed her for your sake,
Else had she with her father ranged 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, learned, played, 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 passed upon her. She is banished.
CELIA
Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege.
I cannot live out of her company.
DUKE FREDERICK
You are a foot.—You, niece, provide yourself.
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Exit Duke Frederick, with 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 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?
ROSALIND That he hath not.
CELIA
No, hath not? Rosalind, lack’st thou 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.
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,
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 Ardenne.
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 curtal-axe 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 called?
CELIA
Something that hath a reference to my state.
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
ROSALIND
But cousin, what if we essayed 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
2.1 Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords dressed as 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
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
Which when it bites and blows upon my body
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say
‘This is no flattery. These are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.’
Sweet are the uses of adversity
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
AMIENS
I would not change it. Happy is your grace
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
DUKE SENIOR
Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads
Have their round haunches gored.
FIRST LORD
Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And in that kind swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banished you.
Today my lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antic root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood,
To the which place a poor sequestered stag
That from the hunter’s aim had ta‘en a hurt
Did come to languish. And indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase. And thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th’extremest verge of the swift brook,
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 216
