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

Cha. O, no; for the new Duke's daughter her coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have follow'd her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less 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 say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelefly, as they did in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke? Cha. Marry do I, Sir, and I come 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 escapes 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 fhall 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 shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to diffuade him from it; but he is refolute. I tell thee, Charles, he is the ftubborneft young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert beft look to't; for if thou doft him any flight difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee

by

by fome treacherous device; 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 villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I muft blush and 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 wreftle for 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 him. Yet he's gentle, never school'd, and yet learned, full of noble device, of all forts enchantingly beloved; and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people who beft know him, that I am altogether mifprifed. But it fhall not be fo long; this wrestler fhall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. SCENE IV. Before the Duke's Palace. Enter Rofalind and Celia.

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

Cel. Herein I fee thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banish'd father, had banished thy uncle the Duke my father, so thou hadft been ftill with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldft 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 yours.

Cel. You know my father hath no child but me, nor none is like to have, and truly when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine

honour,

honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monfter: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, 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 sport withal; but love no man in good earneft, nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.

Rof. What fhall be the fport then?

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

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

Cel. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair fhe fcarce makes honeft, and those that fhe makes honeft she 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 Clown.

Cel. No? when nature hath made a fair creature, may The not by fortune fall into the fire? tho' nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this fool to cut off this argument?

Rof. 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 goddeffes, hath fent this natural for our whetftone: for always the dulnefs of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, whither wander you?

Clo. Miftrefs, you must come away to your father.
Cel. Were you made the meffenger?

Cio. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Ch

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 stand 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 wisdom.

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 swear by that that is not, you are not forfworn, no more was this Knight swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he faw those pancakes or that mustàrd.

Cel. Pr'ythee who is that thou mean'st?

Clo. 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 wifely 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 fhew: here comes Monfieur Le Beu.

SCENE V. Enter Le Beu.

Rof. With his mouth full of news.

Cel. Which he will put on us,as pigeons feed their young. Rof. Then fhall we be news-cram'd.

Cel. All the better, we fhall be the more marketable.

Bon jour, Monfieur Le Beu; what news?

Le Beu. Fair Princefs, you have loft much sport.

Cel. Sport; of what colour?

Le Beu. What colour, Madam? how fhall I answer you? Rof. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the deftinies decree.

Cel, Well faid, that was laid on with a trowel.

Cle

Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank-
Rof. Thou lofeft thy old smell.

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 ladyships, 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.

Le Beu. There comes an old man and his three fons. Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and prefence.

Rof. With bills on their necks: Be it known unto all men by these prefents.

Le Beu. The eldeft of the three wreftled 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 ferv'd the fecond, and fo the third: yonder they lye, the poor old man their father making such 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 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 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 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.

SCENE