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Clo. But what is the Sport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft?
Le Beu. Why this, that I fpeak of.
Clo. Thus men may 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 fee this broken mufick in his fides? is there yet another doats upon rib-breaking? Shall 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 ftay and fee it.
Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.
Duke. Come on. Since the Youth will not be entreated, his own peril en his forwardness. Rof. Is yonder the man?
is there any elfe longs to SEE this broken music in his fides ?] A ftupid error in the copies. They are talking here of fome who had their ribs broke in wrestling: and the pleafantry of Rafalind's repartee must confift in the allusion fhe makes to compofing in mufick. It neceffarily follows therefore, that the poet wrote- SET this broken mufick in his fides.
WARBURTON. If any change were neceffary Ifhould write, feel this broken mufick, for fee. But fee is the colloquial term for perception or experiment. So we fay every
day, fee if the water be hot; I will fee which is the best time; fhe has tried, and fees that the cannot lift it. In this fenfe fee may be here ufed. The fufferer can, with no propriety, be faid to fet the mufick; neither is the allufion to the act of tuning an inftrument, or pricking a tune, one of which must be meant by Jetting mufick. Rofalind hints at a whimfical fimilitude between the feries of ribs gradually shortening, and fome mufical inftruments, and therefore calls broken ribs, broken mufick.
Le Beu. Even he, Mádam.
Cel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks fuccefffully.
Duke. How now, Daughter and Coufin; are you crept hither to fee the wrestling?
Rof. Ay, my liege, so please 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 feign 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.
Orla. I attend them with all respect 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 strength of my youth.
Cel. Young Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have feen cruel proof of this man's ftrength. If you faw yourself with your own eyes, or knew yourfelf with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counfel you to a more equal enterprize. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own fafety, and give over this attempt.
*Sir T. Hanmer. In the old Editions, the man.
If you faw yourself with YOUR eyes, or knew yourself 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 fee and know yourself with our more
impartial judgment, you would for WARBURTON.
I cannot find the abfurdity of the prefent reading. If you were not blinded and intoxicated, fays the princefs,, with the spirit of enterprife, if you could use your own eyes to fee, or your own judgment to know yourself, the fear of your adventure would counfel you.
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 befeech 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, wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one afham'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 eke out hers.
Rof. Fare you well. Pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd in
Cel. Your heart's defire be with you!
Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is so 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 entreat him to a second, that have so mightily perfuaded him from a first.
Orla. You mean to mock me after; you fhould not have mocked me before; but come your ways. Rof. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man! Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg!
Rof. O excellent young man!
7 I beseech you, punish me not, &c. I fhould wish to read, I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts. Therein I VOL. II.
confess myself much guilty to deny fo fair and excellent ladies any thing.
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 fon 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 shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed,
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth;
[Exit Duke, with his train.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's fon, His youngest son, 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 entreaties, Ere he fhould thus have ventur'd.
Cel. Gentle Coufin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him;
If you do keep your promises in love,
But juftly as you have exceeded all promise,
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?.
Are all thrown down; and that, which here ftands up, Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.
Rof. He calls us back-my pride fell with my for
I'll afk him what he would.-Did you call, Sir?.
Cel. Will you go, coz?
Rof. Have with you-Fare you well.
[Exeunt Rofalind and Celia.
Orla. What paffion hangs thefe weights upon my
I cannot speak to her; yet fhe urg'd conference.
one out of fuits with fortune,] This feems an allufion to cards, where he that has no more cards to play of any particular fort is out of fuit.
Is but a quintaine, quintaine, a meer lifeless block.] A Quintaine was a Poft or Butt fer up for feveral 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 exercifes his arms in jeft; the great disparity of condition between Rofalind and
me, not suffering me to hope that love will ever make a serious matter of it. The famous fatirift Regnier, who lived about the time of our author, ufes the fame metaphor, on the fame fubject, tho' the thought be different.