 | As you Like it |  |
Actus primus.
Scœna Prima.
Enter Orlando and Adam.Orlando.
As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion
bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand
Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother
on his blessing to breed mee well: and
there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes
at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit:
for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak
more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call
you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs
not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred
better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding,
they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders
deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder
him but growth, for the which his Animals on his
dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing
that he so plentifully giues me, the something that
nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from
me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the
place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my
gentility with my education. This is it Adam that
grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke
is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude.
I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise
remedy how to auoid it.
Enter Oliuer.
Adam.
Yonder comes my Master, your brother.
Orlan.
Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp.
Oli.
Now Sir, what make you heere?
Orl.
Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli.
What mar you then sir?
Orl.
Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with
idlenesse.
Oliuer.
Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
a while.
Orlan.
Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
Oli.
Know you where you are sir?
Orl.
O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard.
Oli.
Know you before whom sit?
Orl.
I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I
know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition
of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of
nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first
borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud,
were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much
of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming
before me is neerer to his reuerence.
Oli.
What Boy.
Orl.
Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this.
Oli.
Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine?
Orl.
I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir
Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine
that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou
not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy
throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying
so, thou hast raild on thy selfe.
Adam.
Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers
remembrance, be at accord.
Oli.
Let me goe I say.
Orl.
I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my
father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education:
you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and
hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit
of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer
endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become
a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my
father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my
fortunes.
Oli.
And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent?
Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with
you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you
leaue me.
Orl.
I will no further offend you, then becomes mee
for my good.
Oli.
Get you with him, you olde dogge.
Adam.
Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue
lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master,
he would not haue spoke such a word.
Ex. Orl. Ad.
Oli.
Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will
physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand
crownes neyther: holla Dennis.
Enter Dennis.
Den.
Calls your worship?
Oli.
Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
Den.
So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you.
Oli.
Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow
the wrastling is.
Enter Charles.
Cha.
Good morrow to your worship.
Oli.
Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes
at the new Court?
Charles.
There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the
olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger
brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing
him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke,
therefore he giues them good leaue to wander.
Oli.
Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee
banished with her Father?
Cha.
O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so
loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together,
that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to
stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued
of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies
loued as they doe.
Oli.
Where will the old Duke liue?
Cha.
They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden,
and a many merry men with him; and there they liue
like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong
Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time
carelesly as they did in the golden world.
Oli.
What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
Duke.
Cha.
Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you
with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that
your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come
in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I
wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without
some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother
is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee
loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee
come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither
to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him
from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he
shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search,
and altogether against my will.
Oli.
Charles, I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which
thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my
selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by
vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it;
but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest
yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious
emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous
contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse
thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke
as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou
dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie
grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by
poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer
leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect
meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with
teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous
this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him,
but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must
blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and
wonder.
Cha.
I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee
come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee
goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and
so God keepe your worship.
Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester:
I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet
I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's
gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble
deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed
so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my
owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether
misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall
cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy
thither, which now Ile goe about.
Exit.
Scœna Secunda.
Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.Cel.
I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry.
Ros.
Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse
of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you
could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not
learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.
Cel.
Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full
waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father
had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou
hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue
to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth
of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine
is to thee.
Ros.
Well, I will forget the condition of my estate,
to reioyce in yours.
Cel.
You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor
none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt
be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father
perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by
mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee
turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose,
be merry.
Ros.
From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports:
let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue?
Cel.
Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but
loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther,
then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor
come off againe.
Ros.
What shall be our sport then?
Cel.
Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally.
Ros.
I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are
mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman
doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
Cel.
'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce
makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes
very illfauouredly.
Ros.
Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures:
Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the
lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clowne.
Cel.
No; when Nature hath made a faire creature,
may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature
hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune
sent in this foole to cut off the argument?
Ros.
Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when
fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures
witte.
Cel.
Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither,
but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull
to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for
our whetstone, for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is
the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether
wander you?
Clow.
Mistresse, you must come away to your father.
Cel.
Were you made the messenger?
Clo.
No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
Where learned you that oath foole?
Clo.
Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne.
Cel.
How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?
Ros.
I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome.
Clo.
Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue.
Cel.
By our beards (if we had them) thou art.
Clo.
By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if
you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no
more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer
had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before
euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard.
Cel.
Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
Clo.
One that old Fredericke your Father loues.
Ros.
My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough;
speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one
of these daies.
Clo.
The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely,
what Wisemen do foolishly.
Cel.
By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little
wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that
wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monfieur
the Beu.
Enter le Beau.
Ros.
With his mouth full of newes.
Cel.
Which he vvill put on vs, as Pigeons feed their
young.
Ros.
Then shal we be newes-cram'd.
Cel.
All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
Le Beu.
Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport.
Cel.
Sport: of what colour?
Le Beu.
What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
you?
Ros.
As wit and fortune will.
Clo.
Or as the destinies decrees.
Cel.
Well said, that was laid on with a trowell.
Clo.
Nay, if I keepe not my ranke.
Ros.
Thou loosest thy old smell.
Le Beu.
You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told
you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of.
Ros.
Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling.
Le Beu.
I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please
your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet
to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to
performe it.
Cel.
Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.
Le Beu.
There comes an old man, and his three sons.
Cel.
I could match this beginning with an old tale.
Le Beu.
Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and presence.
Ros.
With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by these presents.
Le Beu.
The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles
the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw
him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little
hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the
third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father,
making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders
take his part with weeping.
Ros.
Alas.
Clo.
But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies
haue lost?
Le Beu.
Why this that I speake of.
Clo.
Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the
first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport
for Ladies.
Cel.
Or I, I promise thee.
Ros.
But is there any else longs to see this broken
Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon
rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin?
Le Beu.
You must if you stay heere, for heere is the
place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to
performe it.
Cel.
Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay
and see it.
Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.
Duke.
Come on, since the youth will not be intreated
His owne perill on his forwardnesse.
Ros.
Is yonder the man?
Le Beu.
Euen he, Madam.
Cel.
Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully
Du.
How now daughter, and Cousin:
Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?
Ros.
I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue.
Du.
You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you
there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers
youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not
bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can
mooue him.
Cel.
Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu.
Duke.
Do so: Ile not be by.
Le Beu.
Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals
for you.
Orl.
I attend them with all respect and dutie.
Ros.
Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the
Wrastler?
Orl.
No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger,
I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength
of my youth.
Cel.
Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for
your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans
strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew
your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture
would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We
pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie,
and giue ouer this attempt.
Ros.
Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore
be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that
the wrastling might not go forward.
Orl.
I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde
thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie
so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your
faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall;
wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that vvas
neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to
be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to
lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing:
onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better
supplied, when I haue made it emptie.
Ros.
The little strength that I haue, I would it vvere
with you.
And mine to eeke out hers.
Ros.
Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you.
Cel.
Your hearts desires be with you.
Char.
Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orl.
Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest
working.
Duk.
You shall trie but one fall.
Cha.
No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat
him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him
from a first.
Orl.
You meane to mocke me after: you should not
haue mockt me before: but come your waies.
Ros.
Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man.
Cel.
I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow
by the legge.
Wrastle.
Ros.
Oh excellent yong man.
Cel.
If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who
should downe.
Shout.
Duk.
No more, no more.
Orl.
Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well
breath'd.
Duk.
How do'st thou Charles?
Le Beu.
He cannot speake my Lord.
Duk.
Beare him awaie:
What is thy name yong man?
Orl.
Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland
de Boys.
Duk.
I would thou hadst beene son to some man else,
The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did finde him still mine enemie:
Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede,
Hadst thou descended from another house:
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou had'st told me of another Father.
Exit Duke.
Cel.
Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?
Orl.
I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne,
His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke.
Ros.
My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule,
And all the world was of my Fathers minde,
Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne,
I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties,
Ere he should thus haue ventur'd.
Cel.
Gentle Cosen,
Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him:
My Fathers rough and enuious disposition
Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd,
If you doe keepe your promises in loue;
But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise,
Your Mistris shall be happie.
Ros.
Gentleman,
Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune
That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes.
Shall we goe Coze?
Cel.
I: fare you well faire Gentleman.
Orl.
Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts
Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp
Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke.
Ros.
He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes,
Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir?
Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne
More then your enemies.
Cel.
Will you goe Coze?
Ros.
Haue with you: fare you well.
Exit.
Orl.
What passion hangs these waights vpō my toong?
I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference.
Enter Le Beu.
O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne
Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee.
Le Beu.
Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you
Te leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd
High commendation, true applause, and loue;
Yet such is now the Dukes condition,
That he misconsters all that you haue done:
The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede
More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of.
Orl.
I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here was at the Wrastling?
Le Beu.
Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners,
But yet indeede the taller is his daughter,
The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle
To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues
Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece,
Grounded vpon no other argument,
But that the people praise her for her vertues,
And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake;
And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady
Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better world then this,
I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you.
Orl.
I rest much bounden to you: fare you well.
Thus must I from the smoake into the smother,
From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother.
But heauenly Rosaline.
Exit
Scena Tertius.
Enter Celia and Rosaline.Cel.
Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie,
Not a word?
Ros.
Not one to throw at a dog.
Cel.
No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee
with reasons.
Ros.
Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the
one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad
without any.
Cel.
But is all this for your Father?
Ros.
No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world.
Cel.
They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee
in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths
our very petty-coates will catch them.
Ros.
I could shake them off my coate, these burs are
in my heart.
Cel.
Hem them away.
Ros.
I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him.
Cel.
Come, come, wrastle with thy affections.
Ros.
O they take the part of a better wrastler then
my selfe.
Cel.
O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time
let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine,
you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir
Roulands yongest sonne?
Ros.
The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie.
Cel.
Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his
Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate
him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate
not Orlando.
Ros.
No faith, hate him not for my sake.
Cel.
Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?
Enter Duke with Lords.
Ros.
Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke.
Cel.
With his eies full of anger.
Duk.
Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our Court.
Ros.
Me Vncle.
Duk
You Cosen,
Within these ten daies if that thou beest found
So neere our publike Court as twentie miles,
Thou diest for it.
Ros.
I doe beseech your Grace
Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me:
If with my selfe I hold intelligence,
Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires,
If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke,
(As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle,
Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne,
Did I offend your highnesse.
Duk.
Thus doe all Traitors,
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace it selfe;
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
Ros.
Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?
Duk.
Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough.
Ros.
So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome,
So was I when your highnesse banisht him;
Treason is not inherited my Lord,
Or if we did deriue it from our friends,
What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor,
Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
To thinke my pouertie is treacherous.
Cel.
Deere Soueraigne heare me speake.
Duk.
I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along.
Cel.
I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
I was too yong that time to value her,
But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,
Why so am I: we still haue slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans,
Still we went coupled and inseperable.
Duk.
She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes;
Her verie silence, and per patience,
Speake to the people, and they pittie her:
Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name,
And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous
When she is gone: then open not thy lips
Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe,
Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd.
Cel.
Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot liue out of her companie.
Duk.
You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe,
If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor,
And in the greatnesse of my word you die.
Exit Duke, &c.
Cel.
O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe?
Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine:
I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am.
Ros.
I haue more cause.
Cel.
Thou hast not Cosen,
Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros.
That he hath not.
Cel.
No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one,
Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle?
No, let my Father seeke another heire:
Therefore deuise with me how we may flie
Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs,
And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you,
To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out:
For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale;
Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee.
Ros.
Why, whether shall we goe?
Cel.
To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden.
Ros.
Alas, what danger will it be to vs,
(Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre?
Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold.
Cel.
Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire,
And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face,
The like doe you, so shall we passe along,
And neuer stir assailants.
Ros.
Were it not better,
Because that I am more then common tall,
That I did suite me all points like a man,
A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,
A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart
Lye there what hidden womans feare there will,
Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside,
As manie other mannish cowards haue,
That doe outface it with their semblances,
Cel.
What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
Ros.
Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
But what will you by call'd?
Cel.
Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Ros.
But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale
The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court:
Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?
Cel.
Heele goe along ore the wide world with me,
Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away
And get our Iewels and our wealth together,
Deuise the fittest time, and safest way
To hide vs from pursuite that will be made
After my flight: now goe in we content
To libertie, and not to banishment.
Exeunt.
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