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II. Enter Oliver.
Adam. Yonder comes my mafter, your brother. Orla. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he wil fhake me up.
Oli. Now, Sir, what makes you here?
Orla. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Orla. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employ'd, and do aught a
Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? what prodigal's portion have I spent, that I fhould come to fuch penury?
Oli. Know you where you are, Sir?
Orla. O, Sir, very well; here in your orchard,
Orla. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of blood you should so know me: the courtefie of nations allows you my better, in that, you are the firft born but the fame tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confefs you coming before me are nearer to his revenue.
Oli. What, boy!
Orla. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young
Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
Orla, I am no villain: I am the youngeft fon of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that fays fuch a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, 'till this other had pull'd out thy tongue for faying fo; thou haft rail'd on thy felf.
Adam. Sweet mafters, be patient; for your father's re
membrance, be at accord.
Oli. Let me go, I fay.
Orla. I will not 'till I pleafe: you fhall hear me. My father charg'd you in his will to give me good education :
you have train'd me up like a peafant, obfcuring and hiding me from all gentleman-like qualities; the spirit of my father grows ftrong in me, and I will no longer endure it : therefore allow me fuch exercifes as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go 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 thall have some part of your will. I pray you, leave me.
Orla. I will no further offend you than becomes me før my good.
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
Adam. Is old dog my reward? most true, I have loft my teeth in your fervice. God be with my old mafter, he would not have spoke such a word.
[Exeunt Orlando and Adam. SCENE III.
Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? I will phyfick your ranknefs, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, 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 tomorrow the wrestling is.
Enter Charles. Cha. Good-morrow to your worship.
Oli. Good Monfieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court?
Cha. There's no news at the court, Sir, but the old news; that is, the old Duke is banish'd 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 Rofalind, the old Duke's daughter, be banish'd with her father?
Cha. O, no; for the new Duke's daughter her coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that fhe would have follow'd her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no lefs beloved of her uncle than his own daughter, and never two ladies loved as they do.
Oli. Where will the old Duke live?
Cha. They say, he is already in the foreft of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they fay, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelefly, as they did in the golden world.
Oli.What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke? Cha. Marry do I, Sir, and I come to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, fecretly to understand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he that escapes me without fome broken limb fhall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be loth to foil him, as I muft 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 such disgrace well as he fhall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.
Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will moft kindly requite. I had my self notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to diffuade him from it; but he is refolute. I tell thee, Charles, he is the ftubborneft young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore ufe thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didft break his neck as his finger. And thou wert beft look to't; for if thou doft him any flight difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practife against thee by poifon, entrap thee
by fome treacherous device; and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by fome indirect means or other : for I affure thee, (and almoft with tears I speak it) there is not one fo young and fo villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but fhould I anatomize him to thee as he is, I muft 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 wreftle for prize more; and fo, God keep your worship. [Exit
Oli. Farewell, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamefter: I hope I fhall fee an end of him; for my foul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than him. Yet he's gentle, never school'd, and yet learned, full of noble device, of all forts enchantingly beloved; and indeed fo much in the heart of the world, and efpecially of my own people who beft know him, that I am altogether mifprifed. But it fhall not be fo long; this wrestler fhall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.
SCENE IV. Before the Duke's Palace.
Cel. I pray thee, Rofalind, fweet coz, be merry.
Cel. Herein I fee thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle the Duke my father, fo thou hadft been ftill with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were fo righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee.
Rof. Well, I will forget the condition of my eftate, to rejoice in yours.
Cel. You know my father hath no child but me, 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: therefore, my fweet 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 pr'ythee, do, to make fport withal; but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in fport neither, than with fafety of a pure blush thou may'st in hq❤ nour come off again.
Rof. What fhall be the fport then?
Cel. 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 fo; for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most miftake in her gifts to women.
Cel. 'Tis true; for those that fhe makes fair fhe scarce makes honeft, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favoured.
Rof. Nay, now thou goeft from fortune's office to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the li neaments of nature.
Cel. No.? when nature hath made a fair creature, may the not by fortune fall into the fire? tho' nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent 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 off of nature's wit.
Cel. Peradventure this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reafon of fuch goddeffes, hath fent this natural for our whetftone: for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, whither wander you? -
Cla. Miftrefs, you must come away to your father.
Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you,
Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?