Cel. But is all this for your father? Ros. No, some of it for my child's father. O how full of briers is this working-day world! Cel. 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. Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. Cel. 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? Ros. The duke, my father, loved his father dearly. Cel. 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; 2 yet I hate not Orlando. Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well? 3 Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do.-Look, here comes the duke. Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest haste, 1 i. e. for him whom she hopes to marry. So Theobald explains this passage. Some of the modern editions read, "my father's child." 2 Shakspeare's apparent use of dear in a double sense, has been already illustrated. 3 Celia answers as if Rosalind had said, “love him, for my sake," which is the implied sense of her words. Ros. Duke F. Me, uncle? You, cousin; Within these ten days if that thou be'st found Ros. I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me. Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; (As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle, Duke F. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor⚫ Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. Ros. So was I when your highness took his duke dom; So was I when your highness banished him. Or, if we did derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. i. e. compassion. And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Duke F. 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; Which I have passed upon her; she is banished. Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege. I cannot live out of her company. If Duke. F. You are a fool.-You, niece, provide yourself; you outstay the time, upon mine honor, 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 grieved than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; Pr'ythee be cheerful. Know'st thou not, the duke Hath banished me, his daughter? Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No? Hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth me that thou and I are one. Shall we be sundered? Shall we part, sweet girl? 1 The second folio reads charge. Malone explains it "to take your change or reverse of fortune upon yourself, without any aid or participation." Ros. Why, whither shall we go? Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall. 2 A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart 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 called? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; No longer Celia, but Aliena. Ros. But, cousin, what if we assayed 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; [Exeunt. 1 "A kind of umber," a dusky yellow-colored earth, brought from Umbria in Italy, well known to artists. 2 This was one of the old words for a cutlass, or short, crooked sword coutelas (French). It was variously spelled, courtlas, courtlax, curtlax. 3 i. e. as we now say, dashing. |