As You Like It, Act 1, Scene 3

Why, cousin, why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word?

Come on, cousin, come on, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word?

Not one to throw at a dog.

Not one even to throw at a dog.

No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs. Throw some of them at me. Come, lame me with reasons.

No, your words are too precious to be wasted on mongrels. Throw some of them at me. Come on, cripple me with arguments.

Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any.

Then there would be two cousins confined to bed, when one is crippled with arguments and the other out of her mind without any.

But is all this for your father?

But is all this because of your father?

No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

No, some of it is because of the man who will father my child. Oh, how full of thorns this everyday world is!

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.

They are only burrs, cousin, tossed at you in holiday fun. If we don't keep to the well-worn paths, even our petticoats will pick them up.

I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

I could shake them off my skirt; these burrs are in my heart.

Hem them away.

Cough them away.

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

I would try, if coughing "hem" would get me him.

Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.

Come, come, wrestle with your feelings.

O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Oh, they side with a better wrestler than I am.

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?

Oh, good luck to you! You'll try a bout with him in time, even at the risk of being thrown. But putting these jokes aside, let's talk seriously. Is it possible that so suddenly you should fall so deeply in love with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?

The Duke my father loved his father dearly.

The Duke my father loved his father dearly.

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.

Does it follow from that that you should love his son dearly? By that line of reasoning I ought to hate him, because my father hated his father dearly; yet I don't hate Orlando.

No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.

No, truly, don't hate him, for my sake.

Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?

Why shouldn't I? Doesn't he deserve to be well thought of?

Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do.—Look, here comes the Duke.

Let me love him for that, and you love him because I do.—Look, here comes the Duke.

With his eyes full of anger.

With his eyes full of anger.

Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our court.

Young lady, get yourself away as fast as you safely can, and leave our court.

Me, uncle?

Me, uncle?

You, cousin. Within these ten days if that thou be’st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it.

You, cousin. If within the next ten days you are found as close to our public court as twenty miles, you die for it.

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.

I beg your Grace, let me take away with me the knowledge of what I've done wrong. If I know my own mind, or am acquainted with my own desires, if I am not dreaming, or out of my senses—and I trust I am not—then, dear uncle, not even in an unborn thought did I ever offend your Highness.

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.

All traitors talk like this. If clearing themselves depended only on words, they are as innocent as grace itself. Let it be enough for you that I don't trust you.

Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Still, your mistrust can't make me a traitor. Tell me what the appearance of guilt rests on.

Thou art thy father’s daughter, there’s enough.

You are your father's daughter; that's enough.

So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I when your highness banished 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.

I was that when your Highness took his dukedom; I was that when your Highness banished him. Treason isn't inherited, my lord, and even if we did get it from our relatives, what is that to me? My father was no traitor. So, my good lord, don't misjudge me so badly as to think my helpless state is treacherous.

Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Dear sovereign, listen to me.

Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake, Else had she with her father ranged along.

Yes, Celia, we let her stay for your sake; otherwise she would have wandered off with her father.

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, learned, played, ate together, And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

I didn't beg then to have her stay; it was your own wish and your own pity. I was too young at that time to appreciate her, but now I know her. If she is a traitor, then so am I. We have always slept together, got up at the same moment, studied, played and eaten together, and wherever we went, like Juno's swans, we always went as a pair and inseparable.

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 passed upon her. She is banished.

She is too clever for you, and her agreeableness, her very silence, and her patience speak to the people, and they pity her. You are a fool. She robs you of your reputation, and you will shine more brightly and seem more virtuous when she is gone. So don't open your lips. Firm and unchangeable is the sentence I have passed on her. She is banished.

Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege. I cannot live out of her company.

Then pass that sentence on me too, my lord. I cannot live without her company.

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.

You are a fool. You, niece, get yourself ready. If you stay beyond the time allowed, on my honour and by the power of my word, you die.

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.

Oh my poor Rosalind, where will you go? Will you swap fathers? I'll give you mine. I order you, don't be sadder than I am.

I have more cause.

I have more reason to be.

Thou hast not, cousin. Prithee be cheerful. Know’st thou not the Duke Hath banished me, his daughter?

You don't, cousin. Please be cheerful. Don't you know that the Duke has banished me, his own daughter?

That he hath not.

He has not done that.

No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. Shall we be sundered? 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 change 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.

No, he hasn't? Then Rosalind lacks the love that would teach you that you and I are one person. Shall we be separated? Shall we part, sweet girl? No, let my father look for another heir. So plan with me how we can escape, where to go, and what to take with us, and don't try to take your misfortune on yourself alone, bearing your sorrows by yourself and leaving me out. For by this sky, now pale at our sorrows, whatever you say, I'm going with you.

Why, whither shall we go?

Well, where shall we go?

To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.

To find my uncle in the Forest of Arden.

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

Oh no, what danger it will be for us, girls as we are, to travel so far! Beauty attracts thieves faster than gold does.

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.

I'll dress myself in poor, shabby clothes, and smear my face with a sort of brown earth. You do the same; that way we can travel on and never rouse anyone to attack us.

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 mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances.

Wouldn't it be better, since I am taller than most, that I dress myself in every way like a man? A fine short sword at my thigh, a boar-spear in my hand, and in my heart—let whatever hidden womanly fear lie there that will—we'll have a swaggering, soldierly appearance on the outside, as many other cowardly men do who brazen it out with their looks.

What shall I call thee when thou art a man?

What shall I call you when you're a man?

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?

I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page, so make sure you call me Ganymede. But what will you be called?

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

Something that refers to my condition: no longer Celia, but Aliena.

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?

But, cousin, what if we tried to steal the clownish jester away from your father's court? Wouldn't he be a comfort on our journey?

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.

He'll go with me anywhere in the wide world. Leave it to me to persuade him. Let's go, and gather our jewels and our money together, and work out the best time and the safest way to hide ourselves from the pursuit that will be sent after me once I've fled. Now we go off contented, to freedom and not to banishment.