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SCENE VI.

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

and Attendants.

Duke. Come on, fince the youth will not be entreated;

his own peril on his forwardness.

Rof. Is yonder the man?

Le Beu. Even he, Madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully. Duke. How now, daughter and coufin; are you crept

hither to see the wrestling?

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

Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men; in pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies, see if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monfieur Le Beu. Duke. Do fo; I'll not be by.

Le Beu. Monfieur the challenger, the Princess calls for you.

Orla. I attend her with all respect and duty. Rof. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler? Orla. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger : I come but as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: you have seen cruel proof of this man's strength. If you saw yourself with our eyes, or knew your self 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 safety, and give over this attempt.

Rof. Do, young Sir, your reputation shall 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 tryal, wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends Vo. III.

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no

no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fll up a place, which may be better supply'd when I have made it empty.

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

Cel. And mine to eek out hers.

Rof. Fare you well; pray heav'n I be deceiv'd in you. Orla. Your heart's defires be with you !

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so defirous to lye with his mother earth ?

Orla. Ready, Sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not

have mockt before; but come your ways.

Rof. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!

Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg !

[They wrestle.

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell whe

Rof. O excellent young man !

should down.

Duke. No more, no more.

[Shout.

[Charles is thrown.

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

breathed.

Duke. How dost thou do, Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot speak, my Lord.

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Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rozo

land de Boys.

elfe

Duke. I would thou hadst been fon to some man else

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,

But I did find him still mine enemy :

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Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed,

Hadst thou defcended from another house.

But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,

I would thou hadst told me of another father.

[Exit Duke with bis Train.

SCENE

SCENE VII,

Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am most proud to be Sir Rowland's fon,
His youngest fon, 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 son,
I should have giv'n him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle coufin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him;
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks at my heart. Sir, you have well deserv'ds
If you do keep your promises in love

But justly, as you've here exceeded promise,

Your mistress shall be happy.

Rof. Gentleman,

Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune,
That would give more, but that her hand lacks means.
Shall we go, coz ?
[Giving bim a chain from ber neck.

Cel. Ay; fare you well, fair gentleman.
Orla. Can I not say, I thank you ? my better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
Is but a quintain, a meer lifeless block.

Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes 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. [Exe. Rof. amd Cel. Orla. What paffion hangs these weights upon my tongue?

I cannot speak to her; yet she urg'd conference.

Enter Le Beu.

O poor Orlando? thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or fomething weaker, masters thee.

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you

To leave this place albeit you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the Duke's condition,

Bz

That

That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is indeed
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orla. I thank you, Sir; and pray you, tell me this;
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here were at the wrestling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
But yet indeed the shorter is his daughter;
The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detained by her ufurping uncle
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fisters.
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 praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake;
And on my life, his malice 'gainft the lady
Will fuddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter in a better world than this

I shall defire more love and knowledge of you.

[Exit.

Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well! Thus must I from the smoke into the mother; From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother:

But, heav'nly Rofalind!

[Exit.

SCENE VIII. Re-enter Celia and Rofalind. Cel. Why, coufin, why, Rosalind; 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 reasons.

Rof. Then there were two coufins laid up, when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad with

out any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rof. No, some of it is for my father's child. Oh, how

full of briers is this working-day-world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in

holiday

:

holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, ous very petticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could shake 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 wrestler than my self. Cel. O, a good wifi upon you! you will try in time in despight of a fall; but turning these jests out of service let us talk in good earnest: is it poffible on such a fudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his fon dearly? by this kind of chase I should hate him; for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. Rof. No, faith; hate him not, for my fake. Cel. Why should I? doth he not deserve well?

SCENE IX: Enter Duke with Lords:
Rof. Let me love him for that; and do you love him

because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Duke. Mistrefs, dispatch you with your fafest hafte,

And get you from our court.
Rof. Me, uncle f

Duke. You.

Within these ten days if that thou be't found
So near our publick court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Rof. I do beseech your Grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me's
If with my felf I hold intelligence,

Or have acquaintance with my own defires,
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
As I do trust I am not; then, dear uncle,
Never so much as in a thought unborn

Did I offend your Highness.

Duke. Thus do all traitors;
If their purgation did confift in words,

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