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. ROSALIND. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor. Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 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 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. CELIA. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. DUKE FREDERICK. Ay, Celia, we stayed her for your sake, Else had she with her father ranged 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, learned, played, ate 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 passed upon her. She is banished. CELIA. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege. I cannot live out of her company. 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 grieved than I am. ROSALIND. I have more cause. CELIA. Thou hast not, cousin. Prithee be cheerful. Know’st thou not the Duke Hath banished 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 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. ROSALIND. Why, whither shall we go? CELIA. To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.