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Rof. But is there any elfe 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 ftay 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 stay and fee it.

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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 fuccefffully.

Duke. How now, Daughter and Coufin; are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Rof. Ay, my liege, fo pleafe you give us leave.

Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is fuch odds in the men: in pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain diffuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies, fee 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.

8 Is there any elfe longs to SEE this broken musick in his fides?】 A ftupid error in the copies. They are talking here of fome who had their ribs broke in wrestling: and the pleasantry of Rofalind's repartee must confift in the allufion fhe makes to compofing in mufick. It neceffarily follows therefore, that the poet SET this broken mufick in his fides.

wrote

Orla.

Orla. I attend them with all refpect 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 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. 9 If you faw your felf with our eyes, or knew your felf 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 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 fupplied 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 you.

9 If you faw your felf with your eyes, or knew your felf with YOUR judgment,] Abfurd! The fenfe requires that we fhould read, OUR eyes, and our judgment. The argument is, Your fpirits are too bold, and therefore your judgment deceives you; but did you see and know your felf with our more impartial judgment you would forbear.

Orla.

303

Orla. Your hearts defires be with you!

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 shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily perfuaded him from a first.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mockt me before; but come your ways.

Rof. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg! [They wrestle.

Rof. O excellent young man!

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

Duke. No more, no more.

[bout.

[Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I befeech 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 youngest son 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'ft have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadft thou descended 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

S CE

NE VII.

Manent Celia, Rofalind, 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,
And all the world was of my father's mind:
Had I before known this young man his fon,
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 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 mistress fhall be happy.

Rof. Gentleman,

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 fay, I thank you?

parts

my better Are all thrown down; and that, which here ftands up, Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.

Rof.

1 Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.] A Quintaine was a Poft or Butt fet up for several kinds of martial exercises, against which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. The allufion is beautiful. I am, fays Orlando, only a quintaine, a lifeless block on which love only exercises his arms in jeft; the great disparity of condition between Rofalind and me, not fuffering me to hope that love will ever make a serious matter of it. The faVOL. II. X

mous

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

tunes.

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 these weights upon my

tongue?

I cannot speak 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 applause, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition,

That he mifconftrues 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 was at the wrestling?

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

ners;

But yet, indeed, the fhorter is his daughter;

The other's daughter to the banifh'd Duke,

mous fatirift Regnier, who lived about the time of our author, ufes the fame metaphor, on the fame fubject, tho' the thought be different.

Et qui depuis dix ans, jufqu'en fes derniers jours,
A foutenu le prix en l'efcrime d'amours;
Laffe en fin de fervir au peuple de QUINTAINE,
Elle &c.

And

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