As You Like It - ebook

Actus Primus

Scæna 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 sir?

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

Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with 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.

Exit

.

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.

Scæna 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

Ros.
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 Monsieur the Beu.

Enter le Beau.

Ros.
With his mouth full of newes.
Cel.
Which he will 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 was 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 were with you.

Cel.
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 vpo 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
To 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

in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, 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 is 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 her 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 be 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.

This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.