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. 80 Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: I cannot live out of her company. 87 Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honor, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. Cel. Ros. . That he hath not. Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Shall we be sundered? shall we part, sweet girl? Ros. Why, whither shall we go? Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. 90 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! poor and mean attire And with a kind of umber smirch my face; And never stir assailants. Were it not better, Ros. A boar-spear in my hand; and in my heart Cel. 115 120 What shall I call thee when thou art a man? 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 called? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; No longer Celia, but Aliena. 125 Ros. But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; 130 135 [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. The Forest of Arden. Enter Duke Senior, Amiens, and two or three Lords, like foresters. Duke S. 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? The season's difference, as the icy fang Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, ΤΟ Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life exempt from public haunt 15 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones and good in every thing. Ami. 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 S. 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 20 Have their round haunches gored. First Lord. Indeed, my lord, 25 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Duke S. But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping into the needless stream; 30 35 40 45 "Poor deer," quoth he, "thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much: " then, being there alone, Left and abandoned of his velvet friends, ""Tis right," quoth he; "thus misery doth part 50 The flux of company: "" anon a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him look 55 And never stays to greet him; "Ay," quoth Jaques, 60 Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation? Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and comment First Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt Scene II. A room in the palace. Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. Sec. Lord. oft My Lord, the roynish clown, at whom so 5 |