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Cel. How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge?
Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wifdom. Clo, Stand you both forth now; ftroke your chins, and fwear by your beards that I am a knave.
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, before ever he faw thofe pancakes or that mustard.
Cel. Pr'ythee, who is That thou mean'ft? Clo. (3) 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 whipt for taxation one of these days.
Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wife men do foolishly.
Cel. By my troth, thou fay'ft 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.
Enter Le Beu.
Rof. With his mouth full of news.
Cel. Which he will put on us, as pidgeons feed their
Rof. Then fhall we be news-cram'd.
Cel. All the better, we fhall be the more marketable. Bonjour, Monfieur le Beu; what news?
Le Beu. Fair Princess, you have loft much good Sport.
(3) Clo. One, that old Frederick your Father loves.
Rof. My Father's Love is enough to honour him enough;] This Reply to the Clorun is in all the Books plac'd to Rofalind; but Frederick was not her Father, but Celia's: I have therefore ventur'd to prefix the Name of Celia. There is no Countenance from any Paffage in the Play, or from the Dramatis Perfona, to imagine, that Both the Brother-Dukes were Namefakes; and One call'd the Old, and the Other the Younger Frederick; and, without fome fuch Authority, it would make Confufion to fuppofe it.
Cel. Sport; of what colour?
Le Beu. What colour, Madam? how fhall I answer
Rof. 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,
Rof. Thou lofeft thy old fmell.
Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies; 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 Beu. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your Ladyfhips, you may fee the end, for the beft is yet to do; and here where you are, they are coming to perform it.
Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.
Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence;
Rof. With bills on their necks: Be it known unto all men by these prefents,
Le Beu. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles the Duke's Wreftler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: fo he serv'd the Second, and so the Third: yonder they lye, the poor old man their father making fuch pitiful Dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.
Clo. But what is the Sport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft?
Le Beu. Why this, that I fpeak of.
Clo. Thus men may grow wifer every day. It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was fport for ladies.
Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Rof. But (4) is there any else longs to fet this broken mufick in his fides? is there yet another doats upon rib-breaking? fhall 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 ftay and fee it.
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 fuccefsfully.
Duke. How now, Daughter and Coufin; are you crept hither to see the wrestling?
Rof. Ay, my liege, fo please you give us leave. Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the man in pity of the challenger's youth, I would feign diffuade 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. [Duke goes apart. Le Beu. Monfieur the Challenger, the Princeffes call for you.
Orla. I attend them 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 in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.
(4) Is there any elfe longs to see this broken Mufick in his Sides?] This feeins a ftupid Error in the Copies. They are talking here of Some who had their Ribs broke in Wrestling: and the Pleasantry of Rofalind's Repartee must confift in the Allufion She makes to compofing in Mufick. It neceffarily follows therefore, that the Poet wrote-- fet this broken Mufick in his Sides. Mr. Warburton.
Cel. Young Gentleman, your fpirits are too bold for your years you have feen cruel proof of this man's ftrength. If you faw your felf with your eyes, or knew your felf with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprife. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own fafety, and give over this attempt.
Rof. Do, young Sir; your reputation fhall not therefore be mifprifed; 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 wifhes go with me to my tryal, 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.
Rof. The little ftrength 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
Orla, Your heart's defires be with you!
Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is so 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.
Rof. Now Hercules be thy Speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg!
[they wrestle. Rof.
Rof. O excellent young man!
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who fhould down.
[bout. Duke. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How doft thou, Charles?
Le Beu. He cannot fpeak, my Lord.
Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ?
Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngeft fon of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke. I would, thou hadst been fon to fome man elfe;
The world efteem'd thy Father honourable,
Thou fhould't have better pleas'd me with this deed,
Manent Celia, Rosalind, 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.
Rof. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his foul,
Cel. Gentle Coufin,
Let us go thank him, and encourage him;