Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. All the better; we shall be the more Cel. Shall we sit and mock the good house-marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : wife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts What's the news? may henceforth be bestowed equally.

Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to

women.

Cel. 'Tis true: for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favouredly.

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

Enter TOUCHSTONE.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?

Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit.

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.

I

Cel. Sport? of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall answer you?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.

Touch. Or the destinies decree.

Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.

Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beau. You amaze* me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. if it please your ladyships, you may see the Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.

Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.

Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his three sons,

Cel. I could match this beginning with an

Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such god-old tale. desses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone:

for always the dulness of the fool is the whet-cellent growth and presence ;-
stone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither
wander you?

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of ex

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel. Were you made the messenger? Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn.

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

Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was the knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't thou mean'st?
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father,

loves.

Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough! speak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd for taxation,* one of these days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for since the little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. Enter LE BEAU.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

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

Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

» Satire.

Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto all men by these presents,

-

Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life Charles in a moment threw him, and broke in him; so he served the second, and so the their father, making such pitiful dole over third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Ros. Alas!

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. is the first time that ever I heard, breaking Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! of ribs was sport for ladies.

it

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

broken music in his sides? is there yet another Ros. But is there any else longs to see this dotes upon rib-breaking?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?

here is the place appointed for the wrestling, Le Beau. You must, if you stay here: for and they are ready to perform it.

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, now stay and see it. ORLANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants. Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le Beau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully.

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Ros. Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated *Perplex, confuse.

Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move | Hadst thou descended from another house.

him.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so: I'll not be by.

[DUKE goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

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

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.

Ros. Do, young Sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprized: we will make it our suit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; I would, thou hadst told me of another father. [Exeunt DUKE FRED. Train, and LE BEAU. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's [calling,*

son,

His youngest son;-and would not change that
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
And all the world was of my father's mind:
Had I before know this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him:
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart.--Sir, you have well deserv'd:
If you do keep your promises in love,
But justly, as you have exceeded promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
Ros. Gentleman,

[Giving him a chain from her neck.
Wear this for me; one out of suits with for-
tune ;t
[means.-
That could give more, but that her hand lacks
Shall we go, coz?

Cel. Ay-Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never Are all thrown down; and that which here gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so I shall 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.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.

Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you. Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, Sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

ways.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your [man! Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.

[CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle.

Ros. O excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.

[CHARLES is thrown. Shout.

Duke F. No more, no more. Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. [CHARLES is borne out.] What is thy name, young man? Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois.

Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to
some man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this

[deed,

stands up,

Is but a quintain,‡ a mere lifeless block.
Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with

my fortunes:

[Sir?I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call. Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Ros. Have with you :-Fare you well.
[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon
my tongue?

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.
Re-enter LE Beau.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.
Le Beau. Good Sir, I do in friendship coun-

sel you

To leave this place: Albeit, you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love:
Yet such is now the duke's condition,
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orl. 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 Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge

by manners;

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure '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 sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
* Appellation.
Turned out of her service
The object to dart at in martial excreises
Temper, disposition.

Will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you
well!
[Erit LE BEAU.
Thus must I from the smoke unto the smother;
From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother :-
But heavenly Rosalind!

[Exit.

SCENE III-A Room in the Palace.

Enter CELIA and ROSALIND.

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have mercy!-Not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

They are as innocent as grace itself:-
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a
traitor:

Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter,
there's enough.

Ros. So was I, when your highness took his
dukedom;

So was I, when your highness banish'd him :
Treason is not inherited, my lord;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor :
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your
sake,

Else had she with her father rang'd along.

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, It was your pleasure, and your own remorse

Ros. No, some of it for my child's father: O,I was too young that time to value her, how full of briers is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him.

Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall.-But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: Is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son.

Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly;* yet I hate not Orlando.

Ros. No 'faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?

Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him, because I do :-Look, here comes the duke.

Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Enter Duke FREDERICK, with Lords.
Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your
safest haste,
And get you from our court.

Ros. Me, uncle?

Duke F. You, cousin ;

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros. I do beseech your grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with
If with myself I hold intelligence, [me:
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,
(As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle,
Never, so much as in a thought anborn,
Did I offend your highness.

Duke F. Thus do all traitors;
If their purgation did consist in words,

But now I know her: if she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her
smoothness,

Her very silence, and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem
more virtuous,

When she is gone: then open not thy lips;
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her: she is banish'd.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my
cannot live out of her company. [liege;
Duke F. You are a fool :-You, niece, pro-
vide yourself;

I

If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O, my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go?

Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I

Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the
love

Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.

Therefore devise with me, how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us:
And do not seek to take your change upon you
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
Cel. To seek my uncle.

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umbert smirch my face;
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.
Ros. Were it not better,
* Compassion.

A dusky, yellow-coloured cath.

That can translate the stubbornness of fortuneYour daughter and her cousin much commend Into so quiet and so sweet a style.

Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? | To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?

From seventeen years till now almost fourscore [liant? Here lived I, but now live here no more.

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and va-
Why would you be so fond* to overcome
The bony prizer of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely

Envenoms him that bears it!

Orl. Why, what's the matter?
Adam. O unhappy youth,
Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:
Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the
Yet not the son;-I will not call him son-
Of him I was about to call his father,)-
Hath heard your praises; and this night he

means

At seventeen years, many their fortunes seek;
But at fourscore it is too late a week:
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better,
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—The Forest of Arden.

Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes; CELIA dressed like a shepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE.

Ros. O Jupiter! how weary are my spirits! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.

Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my son-man's apparel, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.

To burn the lodging where you use to lie,
And you within it: if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off:
I overheard him, and his practices.
This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou
have me go?

Adam. No matter whither, so you come not

here.

Orl. What, would'st thou have me go and
beg my food?

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood,‡ and bloody brother,
Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred
crowns,

The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that: and he that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you: Let me be your servant;
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty:
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

Orl. O good old man; how well in thee ap-
pears

The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion;
And having that, do choke their service up
Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry:
But come thy ways, we'll go along together;
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee,
Mansion, residence.
Blood turned from its natural course.

* Inconsiderate.

Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you, than bear you: yet I should bear no have no money in your purse. cross, if I did bear you; for, I think, you

Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.

Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone:-Look you, who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk.

Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do
love her!

Cor. I partly guess; for I have lov'd ere now.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not

guess;

As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow:
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
But if thy love were ever like to mine,
(As sure I think did never man love so,)
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

Cor. Into a thousand, that I have forgotten.
Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd: O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
[Exit SILVIUS.

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy

wound,

I have by hard adventure found mine own.

Touch. And I mine: I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anightt to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow's dugs, that her pretty chopp'd hands had milk'd: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and, giving her them again, said, with weeping tears, Wear these for

*A piece of money stamped with a cross.
↑ In the night.

The instrument with which washers beat clothes