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Rof. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wreftler?

Orla. No, fair Princefs; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the ftrength 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 our eyes. or knew yourself with our judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own fafety, and give over this attempt.

Rof. Do, young Sir; your reputation shall not therefore be mifprised; 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 confefs me much guilty, to deny fo 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 shall 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 fupplied when I have made it empty.

Rof. The little ftrength that I have, I would it were with you.

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Cel. And mine to eck out hers.

Rof. Fare you well; pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd

you.

Órla. Your hearts defires be with you

1!

If you faw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment,] The Sense requires that we fhould read, our eyes, and our judgment. The Argument is, Your Spirits are too bold, and therefore your Judgment deceives you; but did you fee and know yourself with our more impartial Judgment you would forbear.

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Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is fo defirous to lie with his mother earth?

Orla. Ready, Sir; but his Will hath in it a more modeft working.

Duke. You fhall try but one Fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you

fhall not entreat him to a fecond, that have fo mightily 'perfuaded him from a firft.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mockt me before; but come your ways. Ref. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man! Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg!" [They wrestle.

Ref. O excellent young man!

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

Duke. No more, no more.

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[Charles is thrown.

Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke. How doft thou, Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot speak, my Lord.

Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?

» Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest fon of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Duke. I would, thou hadst been fon to fome man elfe!

The world efteem'd thy Father honourable,

But I did find him ftill mine enemy:

Thou should'st 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 hadft told me of another father.

[Exit Duke, with his train.

SCENE

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Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando.

Cel. Wra. Paramore
WERE

VERE I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Row-
land's fon,

His youngest son, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Rof. 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,
I should have givin him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle Goufin,

Let us go thank him and encourage him;
My father's rough and envious difpofition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd:
If you do keep your promises in love,

But juftly as you have exceeded all in promise,
Your miltress fhall be happy..........

Rof. Gentleman,

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Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune, That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz?.. [Giving him a Chain from her Neck. Cel. Ay, fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orla. Can I not say, I thank you? →→→→ my better parts dad d

Are all thrown down ; and that, which here ftands
Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.

*

up,

Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my for

tunes.

Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.] A Quintaine was a Poft or Bute set up for feveral Kinds of martial Exerciles, against which they threw their Darts and exercifed their Arins, The Allufion is

beautiful. I am, fays Orlando, only a quintaine, a lifeless Block on which Love only Exercifes his Arms in Jeft; the great Disparity of Condition between Rofalind and me, not fuffering me to hope that Love will ever make · a ferious Matter of it..

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I'll

I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, Sir?
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Rof. Have with you: fare you well.

[Exeunt Rof. and Cel. Orla. What paffion hangs thefe weights upon my tongue?

I cannot fpeak to her; yet fhe urg'd conference.

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Enter Le Beu.

poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or fomething weaker, mafters thee.

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deferv'd
High commendation, true applaufe, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition,

That he misconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More fuits you to conceive, than me to fpeak of.
Orla. I thank you, Sir; and, pray you, tell me
this;

Which of the two was Daughter of the Duke
That here was at the wrestling?

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Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man

mers;

But yet, indeed, the fhorter is his daughter;
The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her ufurping Uncle
To keep his daughter company; whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleasure 'gainst his gentle Neice;
Grounded upon no other argument,
But that the people praife her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will fuddenly break forth. Sir, fair

you well;

Here

Hereafter, in a better world than this,

Ifhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!
Thus muft I from the smoke into the fmother;
From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother:
But, heav'nly Rofalind!

Cel.

SCENE VIII.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

[Exit.

WHY, Coufin; why, Rofalind; Cupid

have mercy; not a word! Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw fome of them at me; come, lame me with reafons.

Rof. Then there were two Cousins laid up; when the one should be lam'd with Reasons, and the other mad without any. i

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rof. No, fome of it is for my father's Child. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day-world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could fhake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Rof. I would try, if I could cry, hem, and have him.

Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Rof. O, they take the part of a better Wrefller than myself.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despight of a Fall ;-but turning thefe jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft: is it poffible on fuch a fudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof.

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