Le Beu. The eldeft of the three wrestled with Charles the Duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: fo he ferv'd the fecond, and fo the third: yonder they lie, the poor old man their father making fuch pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Rof. Alas!

Clo. But what is the fport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft?

Le Beu. Why this that I speak of.

Clo. Thus men may grow wifer every day! It is the first time that ever I head breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

Rof. But is there any elfe longs to fet this broken mufic in his fides? is there yet another doats upon ribbreaking fhall we fee this wreitling, 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 stay and fee it.

S CEN E. VI.

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

Duke. Come on; fince the youth will not be in treated, 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 fuccessfully. Duke. How now, daughter and coufin; are you crept hither to fee the wreitling?

Ref. 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 intreated. Speak to him, Ladies, fee if you can move him.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monfieur Le Beu.

Duke.

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 refpe&t and duty. Ref. Young inan, have you challeng'd Charles the wreitler?

Orla. No, fair Princefs; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the itrength of my youth.

Cel. Young Gentleman, your fpirits are too bold for your years: you have feen cruel proof of this man's trength. If you faw yourfelf with our eyes, or knew yourlelf with our judgment, the fear of your adventure would counfel you to a more equal enterprife. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own fafety, and give over this attempt.

Ref. Do, young Sir; your reputation fhall not therefore be mifprifed; we will make it our fuit to the Duke, that the wrefling 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; where; in 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.

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

Cel. And mine to eek out her's.

Rof. Fare you well; pray Heav'n I be deceiv'd in

you.

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 fhall not in

treat

treat him to a fecond, that have fo mightily perfuaded him from a first.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you fhould not have mock'd me before; but come your ways.

Ref. Now Hercules be thy fpced, young man! Gel. I would I were invifible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg! [They wreftle.

Rof. O excellent young man!

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

who fhould down.

Duke. No more, no more.

[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 fhould'st have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadit 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 his train.

SCENE 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 fhould have giv'n him tears unto intreaties,
Ere he fhould 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

If you do keep your promifes in love,

But justly as you have exceeded all in promife,
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 mere lifeless block.

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

tunes.

I'll ask him what he would.
Sir, you have wrestled well,
More than your enemies.
Gel. Will you go, coz?

Did you call, Sir? and overthrown

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 urge'd conference.

Enter Le Beu.

O 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 mifconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humourous; 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 manners;
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

And dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleasure 'gainst his gentle niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise 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, fare you well
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!
Thus muft I from the fmoak into the fmother;

From tyrant Duke, unto a tyrant brother:
But, heav'nly Rofalind!

Changes to an apartment in the palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind."

[Exit.

. Cel. 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 caft 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 fhould be lam'd with reafons, and the other mad without any.

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 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 wreitler than myfelf.

VOL. II.

U

Cel.