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condition of blood, you should fo know me; the courtefie of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first born; but the fame tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reve

rence.

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 thy felf.

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

Exe. Orlando and Adam.

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

Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your Worship?

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

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you. Oli. Call him in;

'twill be a good way; and to

morrow the wrestling is.

Enter Charles.

Char. Good morrow to your Worship.

Oli, Good Monfieur Charles, what's the new news at the new Court?

Char. 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 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?

Gha. O, no; for the Duke's daughter her coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that he would have followed her exile, or have died to ftay 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 forest of Ardený and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they fay, many young gentleman 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

Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, fecretly to underftand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come in disguis'd against me to try a Falls 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 love I would be loth to foil him; as I must your 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 tay him from his intendment, or brook fuch difgrace well as he shall run into in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will.

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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 under-hand 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 villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore 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; entrap 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 almost with tears I speak 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 blufh 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 wrefile 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,

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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 Sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and efpecially of my own people who beft know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be fo,long; this wrestler shall clear all; nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.

SCENE changes to an Open Walk, before the Duke's Palace.

Enter Rofalind and Celia.

Cel. I Pray thee, Rofalind, sweet my coz, be merry.

Rof. Dear, Celia, I fhow more mirth than I am mistress 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 unkle, thy banished father, had banished thy unkle the Duke, my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would'st 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 estate, 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 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 monster: therefore, my fweet Rofe, my dear Rose, 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 carneft, nor no further in

fport

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Sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'ft in honour come off again.

Rof. What fhall be our Sport 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 mistake in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true; for thofe, that he makes fair, fhe fcarce makes honeft; and those, that he 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 sent 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 nei ther, but nature's; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of fuch Goddeffes, hath fent this Natural for our whetstone: for always the dullness 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.

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 pan cakes were naught, and the muftard was good, and yet was not the Knight forfworn.

VOL. II.

Cel.

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