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 fon of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that fays, fuch a father begot villains. Wert 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 thyfelf.

Adam. Sweet masters, 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, obfcu ring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities; the fpirit of my father grows ftrong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me fuch exercises 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 trou bled with you: you fhall have fome part of your will. I pray you, leave me.

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? moft true, I have lost

my teeth in your fervice. God be with my old master, he would not have spoke such a word.

[Exeunt Orlando and Adam.

SCENE III.

Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? I will phyfic your rankness, and yet give no thoufand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!

Enter

Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your Worship!

Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to fpeak with me?

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.

Oli. Call on him; 'twill be a good way; and tomorrow the wrestling is.

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 banifh'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 enrich 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 coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have follow'd her exile, or have died to ftay 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 fay, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and feet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?

Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. 1 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

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without

without fome broken limb, shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be loath to foil him; as I muft 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 stay him from his intendment, or brook fuch dif grace 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 fhalt find I will moft kindly requite. I had myfelf 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 stubbornest 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; therefore use thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didft 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 poifon; intrap thee 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 1 fpeak it,) there is not one fo young and fo villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must 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 wrestle for prize more; and fo God keep your Worship.

[Exit.

Oli. Farewell, 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 fchool'd, and yet learned; full of noble device, of all forts inchantingly beloved; and indeed fo 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 wreftler fhall clear all; nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about.

[Exit. SCENE.

SCENE IV.

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 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 banished father, had banished thy uncle the Duke my father, so thou hadft been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would'ft 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 I, 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 I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monfter: therefore, my fweet Rose, my dear Rofe, be merry.

Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devife sports. 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 earneft, nor no further in fport nei-ther, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'ft in honour come off again.

Rof. What shall be our sport then?

Gel. 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 mistake in her gifts to women.

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

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fcarce

fcarce makes honeft; and those that the makes honest, 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 Touchftone, a clown.

Gel. No! when Nature hath made a fair creature, may the 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?

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 whetstone: for always the dulnefs of the fool is the whetftone of the wits. How now, Wit, whither wander you? Clo. Mistress, 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.

Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. "Of a certain Knight, that swore 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 muftard 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 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 mustard.

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

Clo.