The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
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But justly, as you have exceeded promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
ROSALIND
Gentleman,
[Giving him a chain from her neck.]
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.
ORLANDO
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
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.—Fare you well.
[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.]
ORLANDO
What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
I cannot speak to her, yet she urg’d conference.
O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown:
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.
[Re-enter LE BEAU.]
LE BEAU
Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv’d
High commendation, true applause, and love,
Yet such is now the duke’s condition,
That he miscónstrues 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 smaller is his daughter:
The other is daughter to the banish’d duke,
And here detain’d 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.]
SCENE III. A Room in the Palace
[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?
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.
[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.]
DUKE FREDERICK
Mistress, despatch 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 be’st 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