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 griev'd than I am.
Ros. I have more cause.

CEL.

Thou hast not, cousin ;

That he hath not.

Prithee, be cheerful; know'st thou not, the duke
Hath banish'd me, his daughter?

Ros.

CEL. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am 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 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.
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 umber smirch my face;
The like do you so shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.

Ros.

Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-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.

CEL.

What shall I call thee when thou art a man ? Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page,

S.R.

D

And therefore look you call me Ganymede.

But what will you be call'd?

CEL. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Ros. 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?

CEL 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.

Ros.

CEL.

ACT III.

Scene II.-The Forest of Arden!
Enter CELIA, reading a paper.

Here comes my sister reading.
Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show.
But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence' end,
Will I Rosalinda write :

Teaching all that read to know
The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show.
Thus Rosalind of many parts.

By heavenly synod was devis'd,

Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,

To have the touches dearest priz'd.

Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.

[Exeunt.

O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried, "Have patience, good people ! "

CEL.

Didst thou hear these verses ?

Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. CEL. That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses. Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves without the verse, and therefore stood lamely in the verse.

CEL. But didst thou hear without wondering, how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?

Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came; for look here what I found on a palmtree: I was never so be-rimed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.

CEL. Trow you who hath done this?

Ros. It is a man?

CEL. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour?

Ros. I prithee, who?

CEL. O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter.

Ros. Nay, but who is it?

CEL. Is it possible?

Ros. Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.

CEL. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful! and after that, out of all whooping!

Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparison'd like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. CEL. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both, in an instant.

Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow and true maid.

Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What make he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee, and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.

Το

CEL. You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. say ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism.

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled?

CEL. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn.

Ros. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit.

CEL. Cry "holla!" to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.

Ros. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.

CEL. I would sing my song without a burthen: thou bringest me out of tune.

Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. CEL. You bring me out.

Ros.

Soft! comes he not here ?

'Tis he slink by, and note him.

Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES.

JAQ. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.

ORL. And so had I; but yet, for fashion' sake, I thank you too for your society.

JAQ. God be wi' you: let's meet as little as we can.
ORL. I do desire we may be better strangers,

JAQ. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing lovesongs in their barks.

ORL.

I pray you mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.

JAQ. Rosalind is your love's name?

ORL. Yes, just.

JAQ. I do not like her name.

ORL. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.

JAQ. What stature is she of?

ORL. Just as high as my heart.

JAQ. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conn'd them out of rings?

ORL. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions.

JAQ. You have a nimble wit. I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.

ORL. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.

JAQ. The worst fault you have is to be in love.

ORL. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.

JAQ. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found

you.

ORL. He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you shall see him.

JAQ. There I shall see mine own figure,

ORL. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.

JAQ. I'll tarry no longer with you. Farewell, good Signior Love.

ORL. I am glad of your departure. Adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit JAQUES. Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester ? ORL. Very well: what would you?

Ros. I pray you, what is 't o'clock ?

ORL. You should ask me, what time o' day; there's no clock in the forest.

Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.

ORL. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper?

Ros. By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.

ORL. I prithee, who doth he trot withal ?

Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized; if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year.

ORL. Who ambles Time withal ?

Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury. These Time ambles withal.

ORL. Who doth he gallop withal ?

Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall he thinks himself too soon there. ORL. Who stays it still withal?

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep