As You Like It

by William Shakespeare

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Act I, Scene III: A Room in the Palace


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.


CELIA But is all this for your father?


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.


CELIA Hem them away.

ROSALIND I would try, if I could cry hem and have him.

CELIA Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.


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 in a thought unborn Did I offend your highness.

DUKE FREDERICK Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself:— Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.


DUKE FREDERICK Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough.

ROSALIND So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I when your highness banish'd him: Treason is not inherited, my lord: Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What's that to me? my father was no traitor! Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous.

CELIA Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

DUKE FREDERICK Ay, Celia: we stay'd her for your sake, Else had she with her father rang'd along.

CELIA I did not then entreat to have her stay; It was your pleasure, and your own remorse: I was too young that time to value her; But now I know her: if she be a traitor, Why so am I: we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

DUKE FREDERICK 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; Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her;—she is banish'd.


DUKE FREDERICK You are a fool.—You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords.] CELIA O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am.

ROSALIND I have more cause.

CELIA Thou hast not, cousin; Pr'ythee be cheerful: know'st thou not the duke Hath banish'd me, his daughter?

ROSALIND That he hath not.

CELIA No! hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Shall we be sund'red? shall we part, sweet girl? No; let my father seek another heir. Therefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go, and what to bear with us: And do not seek to take your charge upon you, To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.

ROSALIND Why, whither shall we go?

CELIA To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.

ROSALIND Alas! what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far? Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

CELIA 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.

ROSALIND Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-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 mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances.

CELIA What shall I call thee when thou art a man?

ROSALIND 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?

CELIA Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena.


CELIA 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. Now go we in content To liberty, and not to banishment.


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