219 have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit I confefs your coming before me is nearer to his revenue. Oli. What, boy!

Orla. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me,

villain!

Orla. I am no villain. I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that fays, fuch a father begot villains. West thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had pull'd out thy tongue for faying fo; thou haft rail'd on thyself.

Adam. Sweet mafters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord."

Oli. Let me go, I fay.

Orla. I will not, till I pleafe; you fhall hear me. My father charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have train'd me up like a peafant, obfcuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities; the fpirit of my father grows trong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me fuch exercifes as may become a gentleman; or give me the poor allottery my father left me by teftament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is fpent? well, Sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you fhall have some part of

I

pray you, leave me.

your

will.

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? most true, I have loft my teeth in your fervice. God be with my old mafter, he would not have spoke fuch a word.

[Exeunt Orlando and Adam.

SCENE III.

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!

Ta

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 accefs to you.

Oli. Call him in ;morrow the wrestling is.

-'twill be a good way; and to

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, Sir, 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; whofe lands and revenues inrich the new Duke, therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

Oli. Can you tell, if Rofalind, the Duke's daughter, be banish'd with her father?

Cha. O, no; for the new Duke's daughter her cou fin 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 lefs 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 wreftle to-morrow before the new Duke?

Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, fecretly to understand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come in difguis'd against me to try a fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that efcapes 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 must 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 ftay 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 my felf notice of my brother's purpofe 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 vil lanous contriver against me his natural brother; there fore 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 poifon; intrap thee by fome treacherous de-vice; 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 fpeak 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 must blushand 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 før 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 inchantingly beloved; and indeed fo much the heart of the world, and especially of my own people who best know him, that I am altogether mifprifed. But it fhall not be fo long; this. wreftler shall clear all; nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about,

[Exit

Changes to an open walk before the Duke's palace.

Enter Rofalind and Celia.

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

Cel. Herein I fee thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banifhed father, had banished thy uncle the Duke my father, fo zhou hadst been ftill with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would't 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 eftate, to rejoice in your's.

Gel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou fhalt 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 monfter: therefore, my fweet Rofe, my dear Rofe, be merry.

Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devife fports. Let me fee, what think you of falling in love?

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

Rof. What fhall be our fport then?

Cel. Let us fit, and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be beftowed equally.

Rof. I would we could do fo; for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth moft miftake in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true; for thofe that the makes fair, the

fcarce makes honeft; and thofe that fhe makes honeft, fhe makes very ill-favoured.

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 Touchftone, a clown.

Cel. No! when Nature hath made a fair creature, may fhe 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 this argument ?

Ref. 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 goddesses, 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.

66

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 mustard was naught." Now, I'll ftand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard 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 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 muftard.

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