So near our public court as twenty miles,

Thou diest for it.

Ros. 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 F. 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.

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor:

Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. Ros. 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, my good liege, mistake me not so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, Else had she with her father rang'd along.

Cel. 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 coupl'd and inseparable.

Duke F. 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.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege;

I can not live out of her company.

Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself; If you outstay the time, upon mine honor, And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exit DUKE FREDERICK. Cel. 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. Ros. I have more cause.

Cel.

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

Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I are one;
Shall we be sunder'd? 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.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Ros. Alas! what danger will it be to us,

Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. 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.

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.

Cel.

What shall I call thee when thou art a man? Ros. 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?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state;

No longer Celia, but Aliena.

Ros. 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?

Cel. 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.

HAMLET

PART OF ACT V

SCENE: A churchyard. Two grave-diggers.

1st G. D. Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?

2d G. D. I tell thee she is; and therefore make her grave straight: the crowner hath set on her, and finds it Christian burial.

1st G. D. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defense?

2d. G. D.

Why, 'tis found so.

1st G. D. It must be se offendendo; it cannot be else. For here lies the point: If I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches; it is, to act, to do, and to perform: Argal, she drowned herself wittingly.

2d G. D.

Nay, but hear you, goodman delver.

1st. G. D. Give me leave. Here lies the water: good; here stands the man: good; if the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes; mark you that; but if the water come to him, and drown him, he drowns not himself: Argal, he that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.

2d G. D. But is this law?

1st G. D. Ay, marry is't; crowner's quest-law. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers. I'll put a question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself2d G. D. Go to.

1st G. D. What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

2d G. D. The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.

1st G. D. I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows does well. But how does it well? It does well to those that do ill now, thou dost ill, to say the gallows is built stronger than the church: Argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again; come.

2d G. D. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?

1st G. D. Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when you are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker: the houses that he makes last till doomsday. Go, fetch me a stoup of liquor.

1st G. D. [digs and sings]:

[Exit 2d Grave-digger.

In youth, when I did love, did love,
Methought it was very sweet,