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your father's

condition of blood, you should so know me; the courtefie of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first born; but the same 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

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 son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot villains. Wert thou noc my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, 'till this other had pulld out thy tongue for saying lo; thou hast rail'd on thy self.

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient ; for remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say. Orla. I will not, 'till I please: 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 peasant, ob scuring 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 such 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 spent ? well, Sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some 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 service. God be with my old master, he would not have spoke such a word.

[Exe. Orlando and Adam.

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Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me? I will phyfick your rankness, 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 Monsieur 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 banith'd by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him ; whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

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

Gba. O, no; for the Duke's daughter her cousin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the Court, and no less beloved of her uncle ithan his own daughter's and never two ladies loved, as they do.

Oli. Where will the old Dake live?

Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they say, many young gentleman flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelesly, as they did in the golden world.

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

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Cha.

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Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, secretly to under: Itand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a dif: position to come in disguis’d againit me to try a Falls to morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he, chac escapes me without some broken limb, thall 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 stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search 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 my felf notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by under-hand incans laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. 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 secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy dilcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck, as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any light disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison; entrap thee by some treacherous device; and never leave thee, 'till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for I assure thee, (and almost with tears I speak it). there is not one so young and so 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 so, God keep your Worship.

[Exit. Oli. Farewel, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamester : I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my

soul,

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soul, 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 especially of

my own people who best know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be so;long; this wrestler thall 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 Rosalind and Celia. Cel.

Pray, thee, Rodalindsweet my coz, be merry

Rof. Dear, Celia, I show 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'st 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 hadft. been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine ; so would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee.

Ros. 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 sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise Sports : let me see, what think you of falling in love?

Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal; but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in,

sport

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

Rof. What shall 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 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 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.

Énter Clown. Cel. No, when nature hath made a fair creature, may she 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?

RS. 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 reason of such Goddesses, hath sent 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. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

. Cel. Were you made the messenger? Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. 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 pan cakes were naught, and the mustard was good, and yet was not the Knight forsworn. VOL. II.

Cel.

for you.

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