Beauty provoketh

sooner than gold.

thieves

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 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

cowards have

mannish

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,

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 essay'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. in content

Now go we

To liberty and not to banish

ment.

[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?!

Here feel we but 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.