Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent ? -Well, fir, get you in :—I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some 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? Moft true, I have lost my teeth in your fervice.-God be with my old mafter, he would not have spoke fuch a word.

[Exeunt ORLANO and ADAM. Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? I will phyfic your ranknefs, and yet give no thousand crowns neither.-Holla, Dennis !

Enter DENNIS.

Den. Calls your worship?

Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wreftler, here to speak with me?

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.

Oli. Call him in.-[Exit DENNIS.] Twill be a good way; and to-morrow 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, fir, 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 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..

Oli. Where will the old duke live?

Cha. They fay 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 carelessly, as they did in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?

Cha. Marry, do I, fir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, fir, fecretly to understand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come in difguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, fir, 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 fuch difgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own fearch, and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou fhalt find, I will moft kindly requite. I had myself 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 stubborneft young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother: Therefore ufe thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck, as his finger: And thou wert best 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 poison; 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 villanous this day living. I fpeak 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 wrestle for prize more. And fo, God keep your worship! [Exit. Oli. Farewel, 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 he. 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 especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether mifprized: But it fhall not be fo long; this wreftler fhall clear all: Nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit..

SCENE II.

An open Walk before the Duke's Palace.

LIND and CELIA.

Enter ROSA

Cel. I pray thee Rofalind, fweet my coz, be merry. Rof. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banifh'd father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure..

Cel. Herein I fee thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee: If my uncle, thy banish'd 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 wouldft 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 estate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, 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 sweet Rose, my dear Rofe, be merry.

Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devife fports: let me fée :-What think you of falling in love?

Cel.. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earneft; nor no further in fport neither, than with fafety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again..

Rof. What shall be our sport then?

Gel. Let us fit and mock the good housewife, Fortuney

from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be beftowed equally.[2]

Rof. I would we could do fo; for her benefits are mightily mifplaced and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.

Gel. 'Tis true: for thofe, that the makes fair, the fcarce makes honeft: and those, that the makes honeft, the makes very ill-favour'dly.

Rof. Nay, now thou goeft from fortune's office to nature's fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature.

Enter TOUCHSTONE, a Clown.

Cel. No! When nature hath made a fair creature, may the not by fortune fall into the fire?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this fool to cut off the 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 whetstone for always the dulnefs of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you?

Clo. Miftrefs, you must come away to your father. Cel. Were you made the meffenger?

Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. Of a certain knight, that fwore by his honour they were good pancakes, and fwore by his honour the muftard was naught: now, I'll ftand to it, the pancakes. were naught, and the muftard was good; and yet was not the knight forfworn.

Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?

Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom.

Clo. Stand you both forth now: ftroke your chins,. and swear by your beards that I am a knave.

[2] The wheel of Fortune is not the wheel of a housewife. Shakefpeare has confounded Fortune, whofe wheel only figures uncertainty and viciffitude, with the deftiny that fpins the thread of life, though indeed not with a wheel. JOHNS.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.

Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you fwear by that that is not, you are not forfworn: no more was this knight, fwearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away be fore ever he faw thofe pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is that thou mean'ft ?

Clo. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him: Enough! fpeak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days.

Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak 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 fhow.[3] Here comes monfieur Le Beau.

Enter LE BEau.

Raf. With his mouth full of news..

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Rof. Then fhall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. All the better: we fhall be the more marketable. Bon jour, monfieur Le Beau; what news?

Le Beau. Fair princefs, you have loft much good sport. Cel. Sport? of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? how fhall I anfwer

you?

Rof. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the deftinies decree..

Gel. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel.
Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-

Rof. Thou lofeft thy old fmell.

Le Beau. You amaze me ladies [4] I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have loft the fight of. Rof. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it pleafe your ladyships, you may fee the end; for the best is yet

[3] Shakefpeare probably alludes to the ufe of Fools or Jefters, who for fome ages had been allowed in all courts an unbridled liberty of cenfure and mockery, and about this time began to be lefs tolerated. JOHNS.

[4] To Amaze, here, is not to aftonifh or trike with wonder, but to perplex; to confufe; as, to put out of the intended narrative. JOHNS