CLO. The more pity, that fools may not fpeak wifely what wife men do foolishly.

CEL. By my troth, thou fay'st true; for fince the little wit that fools have was filenc'd, the little foolery that wife men have makes a great show: here comes Monfieur Le Beu.

SCENE. V.

Enter Le Beu.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

CEL. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Ros. Then fhall we be news-cram'd.

CEL. All the better, we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monfieur Le Beu; what news?

LE BEU Fair Princess, you have loft much good sport. CEL. Sport; of what colour?

LE BEU. What colour, Madam? how shall I answer you? Ros. As wit and fortune will.

CLO. Or as the deftinies decree.

CEL. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel.

CLO. Nay, if I keep not my rank,

Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

LE BEU. You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have loft the fight of.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

LE BEU. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your Ladyships, you may fee the end, for the best is yet to do; and here where you are, they are coming to perform it. CEL. Well-the beginning that is dead and buried.

LE BEU. There comes an old man and his three fons,
CEL. I could match this beginning with an old tale.

LE BEU. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and prefence ;

Ros. With bills on their necks: "Be it known unto all men by these presents."

LE BEU. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles the Duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, and there is little hope of life in him fo he ferv'd the fecond, and fo the third. Yonder they lie, the poor old man their father making fuch pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Ros. Alas!

CLO. But what is the sport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft?

LE BEU. Why this, that I fpeak of.

Cio. Thus men may grow wiser every day! It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. CEL. Or I, I promise thee..

Ros. But is there any elfe longs to fee this broken musick in his fides? is there yet another doats upon rib-breaking? Shall we fee this wrestling, coufin?

LE BEU. You must if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

CEL. Yonder, fure, they are coming. Let us now stay and fee it.

SCENE VI.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and attendants.

DUKE. Come on. Since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.

Ros. Is yonder the man?

LI BEU. Even he, Madam.

CEL. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks fuccefsfully. DUKE. How now, daughter and coufin; are you crept hither to fee the wrestling?

Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.

DUKE. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is fuch odds in the men in pity of the challenger's youth, I would feign diffuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies, fee if you can move him. CEL. Call him hither, good Monfieur Le Beu. DUKE. Do fo. I'll not be by.

[Duke goes apart. LE BEU. Monfieur the challenger, the princeffes call for

you.

ORLA. I attend them with all respect and duty.

Res. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler?

ORLA. No, fair princefs; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

CEL. Young gentleman, your fpirits are too bold for your years. You have feen cruel proof of this man's ftrength. If you faw yourself with your own eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprize. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.

Ros. Do, young Sir; your reputation fhall not therefore be misprised. We will make it our fuit to the Duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

ORLA. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial, wherein if I be foil'd,

there is but one fham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be fo. I fhall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with

you.

CEL. And mine to eke out hers.

Ros. Fare you well. Pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd in you. CEL. Your heart's defires be with you!

CHA. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so de firous to lie with his mother earth?

ORLA. Ready, Sir. But his will hath in it a more mo◄ deft working.

DUKE. You fhall try but one fall.

CHA. No-I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a fecund, that have fo mightily perfuaded him from a first.

ORLA. You mean to mock me after; you fhould not have mocked me before; but come your ways.:

Ros. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man!

CEL. I would I were invisible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg! [they wrestle.

Ros. O excellent young man !

CEL. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who fhould down.

DUKE. No more, no more.
ORLA. Yes, I befeech your grace.

breathed.

DUKE. How doft thou, Charles?
LE BEU. He cannot speak, my Lord.

[fhout.

[Charles is thrown,

I am not yet well

--

DUKE. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ? ORLA. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

DUKE. I would, thou hadst been fon to fome man else ! The world esteem'd thy father honourable,

But I did find him still mine enemy:

Thou shouldft have better pleas'd me with this deed,
Hadft thou defcended from another house.

But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth;

-I would thou hadst told me of another father.

Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando.

CEL. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? ORLA. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's fon, His youngest fon, and would not change that calling To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his foul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Had I before known this young man his fon, Ifhould have giv'n him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

CEL. Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him and encourage him;

My father's rough and envious disposition

Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd;
If you do keep your promises in love,

But justly as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress fhall be happy.

Ros. Gentleman,

Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune,

That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.