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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 have fome part of your will. I pray you leave me.
Orla. I will no further offend you, than becomes. me for my good.
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
Adam. Is old dog my reward? most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master ! he would not have fpoken such a word
[Exe. Orlando and Adam. Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thoufand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis !
Enter DENNIS. Den. Calls your Worship?
Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here. to speak with me?
Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.
Oli. Call him in;-~'twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.
Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court ?
Char. There's no news at the court, Sir, but the old news; that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loving Lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him; whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he gives them good leave to wander.
Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke's daugh. ter, be banished with lcr father?
Chur. O, no;' for the Duke's daughter her cou. Sin so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two Ladies loved as they do.
Oil. Where will the old Duke live?
Char. They fay he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they lay many young gentlemen flock to hiin every day, and fleet the time carelesly, as they did in the golden world.
Oil. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?
Cha. Marry do I, Sir, and I came to acquaint you' with a matter. I am given, Sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wreitle for dit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, Thall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be loth to foil him; as I must for mine own honour, if he come in ; therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook fuch disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.
Oil. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will molt kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by under-hand means laboured to difa fuade hin froin it; but he is refolute. I tell thee,
Charles, he is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck, as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any flight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison; entrap thee by some treacherous device; and never leave thee’till he hath ta’en thy life by some indire& means or other; for I assure thee, (and almost with tears I speak it) there is not one so young and fo villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, i must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment; if ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more; and so God keep your Worship. [Exit.
Oli. Farewel, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamefter: I hope I fhall see an end of him; for my loul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never schooled, and yet learned; full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people who beft know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all; nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thithér, which now I'll go about.
SCENE changes to an open Walk before the Duke's
Rof. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am miitress of; and would you yet I were merrier? unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.
Cel. Herein I fee thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banifhed thy uncle the Duke my father, so thou hadît been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine : so vouldest thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee.
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my eitate to rejoice in yours.
Cel. You know my father hath no child but 1, nor none is like to have; and truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: there,
sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports: let me fee, what think you of falling in love ?
Cel. Marry, I prythee do, to make sport withal; but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in fport neither, than with safety of a pure blusha thou mayeft in honour come off again.
ko. What fall be our fport then?
Gel. Let us fit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
Rof. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind wornan doth most miltake in her gifts to women.
Cel. 'Tis true; for those that the makes fair, she scarce makes honelt; and those that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favoured.
Rol. Nay, now thou goeft from Fortune's office to Nature's: Fortune reignis in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.
Enter Clown. Cel. No; when Nature hath made a fair crea: ture, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at For: tuné, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off this argument?
Rof. Indeed there is Fortune too hard for Nature; when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter of of Nature's wit.
Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neis ther, but Nature's; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dul ness of the food is the whetstone of the wits. How now, Wit, whither wander you?
Clo. Mistress, you must come away to your fam ther.
Cel. Were you made the meffenger?
Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?
Clo. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his