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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; stroke your chins, and swear 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 forsworn; no more was this Knight Twearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.
Cel. Prythee, who is That thou mean'st?
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him enough ; speak no more of him, you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days.
Clo. The more pity, that fools may not fpeak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true ; for since the little wiť that fools have was silenc'd, the little foolery that wife men have makes a great Show: here comes Monsieur Le Beu...!'.
Enter Le Beu, Rof. With his mouth full of news.
Cei. Which he will put on us, as pidgeons feed their young
Rof. Then shall we be news-cram'd.
Cel. All the better, we shall be the more marketable. Bonjour, Monsieur le Beu; what news?
Le Beis. Fair Princess, you have lost much good Sport.
(3) Clo. One, that old Frederick your Father loves.
Ros. My Father's Love is enough to honour him enough;} This Reply to the Cloren is in all the Books plac’d to Rosalind; but Frederick was not her Father, but Celia's: I have therefore ventur'd to prefix the Name of Celia. There is no Countenance from any Paffuge in the Play, or from the Dramatis Persone, to imagine, that Both the Brother-Dakes were Namesakes; and One calld the Old, and the Other the Younger Frederick ; and, without some fuch Authority, it would make Confution te suppose it.
Cel. Sport; of what colour?
Le Beu. What colour, Madam ? how shall I answer you?
Rof. As wit and fortune will.
Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies; I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the fight of.
Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling,
Le Beu. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your Ladyships, you may see the end, for the best 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 sons,
Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.
Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence;
Rof. With bills on their necks : Be it known unto all imen by these presents,
Le Beu. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles the Duke's Wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him : so he serv'd the Second, and so 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. Aias !
Clo. But what is the Sport, Monsieur, that the ladies have lost?
Le Beu. Why this, that I speak of.
Clo. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Rof. But (4) is there any else longs to set this broken mufick in his fides? is there yet another doats upon rib-breaking? Thall we see this wrestling, Cousin?
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, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it.
Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Charles, and attendants. Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be entreated; his own peril on his forwardness.
Ros. Is yonder the man?
Cel. Alas, he is too young ; yet he looks successfully.
Duke. How now, Daughter and Cousin ; are you crept hither to see 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 such odds in the man : in pity of the challenger's youth, I would feign dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see, if you can move him.
Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beu.
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.
(4) Is there any else longs to see this broken Mufick in his Sides?] This feerns a stupid Error in the Copies. They are talking here of Some who had their Ribs broke in Wrestling: and the Pleasantry of Rosalind's Repartee must consist in the Allusion She makes to composing in Mufick. It necessarily follows therefore, that the Poet wrote set this broken Mufick in his Sides.
Cel. Young Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years : you have seen cruel proof of this man's Itrength. If you saw your self with your eyes, or knew your self with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.
Rof. Do, young Sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised; we will make it our suit to the Duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.
Orla. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein, I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my tryal, , wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was never gracious ; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be lo : I shall 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 supplied when I have made it empty. Rof
. The little strength that I have, I would it were
But let your
Cel. And mine to eek out hers.
Ros, Fare you well ; pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd in you.
Orla, Your heart's desires be with you!
Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orla. Ready, Sir; but his Will hath in it 4 more modest working
Duke. You shall try but one Fall,
Cha. No, I warrant your Grące, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.
Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mockr me before; but come your ways.
Rof. Now Hercules be thy Speed, young man!
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg!
Rof. O excellent young man!
Gel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.
[fbout. Duke. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown.
Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How doft thou, Charles ?
Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ?
Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke. I would, thou hadft been son to some man
The world efteer'd thy Father honourable,
[Exit Duke, with his Train.
Manent Celia, Rosalind, Orlando.
Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest fon, and would not change that calling To be adopted heir to Frederick.
Ros, My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul,
Cel. Gentle Cousin,
you do keep your promises in love,