The Works of William Shakespeare

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for tre: sons, stratagems, and spoils:
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, at a distance.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall.
How fair that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the
candle.

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king,
Until a king be by; and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;
Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true pe fection!-
Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd!
[Music ceases.
That is the voice,

Lor.

Or I ain much deceiv'd, of Portia.
Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the
cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,

Which speed we hope, the better for our words:
Are they return'd?

Lor. Madam they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
Por.

Go in, Nerissa,

Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;
Nor you Lorenzo;-Jessica nor you.

A tucket sounds.
Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet:
We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.
Por. This night, methinks, is but the day-light sick,
It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

You should have been respective, and have kepti
Give it a judge's clerk '--but well I know,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it.
Gra. He will, and if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,-
A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than myself, the judge's clerk;
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee:
I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And riveted so with faith upon your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief;
And 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Buss. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it. [Aside.
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed,
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine.
And neither man, nor master, would take aught
But the two rings.
Por.
What ring gave you, my lord'
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

I would deny it; but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.
Nor I in yours,

Ner. Till I again see mine. Bass.

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring.
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honor to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd, to have defended it
With any terms of zeal wanted the modesty

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their To urge the thing held as a ceremony?

Followers.

This is the man, this is Antonio.

To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
I'll die for t, but some woman had the ring.

Buss. No, by mine honor, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me.
And begg'd the ring: the which I did deny him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:
Even he that had held up the very life
I was enforced to send it after him;
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady1

I was beset with shame and courtesy ;
My honor would not let ingratitude

So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady;

Por. You should in all sense be much bound to For, by these blessed candles of the night,

him.

For, as I hear he was much bound for you.

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.

[GRATIANO and NERISSA seen to talk apart. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong: In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. Would he wear gilt that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter? Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me; whose posy was For all the world, like cutler's poetry Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not. Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you. That you would wear it till your hour of death; And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,

A flourish on a trumpet. Verbal, complimentary form.

Had you been there, I think, you would have begg`d The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, And that which you did swear to keep for me, I will become as liberal as you : I'll not deny him any thing I have, No, not my body, nor my husband's bed: Know him I shall, I am well sure of it: Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus. Now, by mine honor, which is yet my own, If you do not, if I be left alone, I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis`d, How you do leave me to mine own protection. For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him then;

Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome not withstanding.

Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong : • Regardful.

And in the hearing of these many friends,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself,-

Pr.

Mark you but that! In both mine eyes he doubly sees himself: In each eye one-swear by your double self, And there's an oath of credit. Bass. Nay, but hear me : Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, I never more will break an oath with thee. Art. I once did lend my body for his wealth: Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, TO PORTIA. Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Wil never more break faith advisedly. Per. Then you shall be his surety: Give him this; And bid him keep it better than the other.

Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio;
For by this ring the doctor lay with me.

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In leu of this, last night did lie with me.

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserved it?
Pr. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'd:
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:

There you shall find that Portia was the doctor;
Nessa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here
Stall witness, I set forth as soon as you,
And but even now return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you,
• Advantage.

Than you expect: unseal this letter soon:
There you shall find, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbor suddenly:
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.
I am dumb.

Ant.

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me cuckold?

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do 1. Unless he live until he be a man.

Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and living:

For hear I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.

Por.

How now, Lorenzo? My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. Ner. Ay and I'll give them him without a fee.There do I give to you and Jessica,

From the rich Jew a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.
It is almost morning.

Por.

And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full: Let us go in;
And charge us there upon inter gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so: The first inter'gatory,
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay ;
Or go to bed now, being two hours to-day:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing

So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Excuns

AS YOU LIKE IT.

DUKE, living in exile.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

FREDERICK, brother to the Duke, and Usurper of his dominions.

AMIENS, Lords attending upon the Duke in his

JAQUES,

banishment.

TOUCHSTONE, a Clown.
SIR OLIVER MAR-TEXT, a Vicar.
CORIN,
SYLVIUS, S

Shepherds.

WILLIAM, a country fellow in love with Audrey

LE BEAU, a Courtier attending upon Frederick. A person representing Hymen.
CHARLES, his Wrestler.

OLIVER,

ROSALIND, Daughter to the banished Duke.
CELIA, Daughter to Frederick.

PHEBE, a Sheperdess.

AUDREY, a country girl.

Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, Forest ers, and other Attendants.

The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partiz in the Forest of Arden.

ACT I.

SCENE I.- An Orchard, near Oliver's House.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father, and le is thrice a villain, that says such a father beg villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other hand pulled out thy tongue for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself.

The courtesy of nations allows you tny better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fash-brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father ion bequeath'd me: By will, but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well. and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept: For call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that ditlers not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Enter Oliver.

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.

Oli. Now, sir, what make you here?
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, sir?

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be naught,

awhile.

Ort. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury?

Oli. Know you where you are sir?
Orl. O, so very well: here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, sir?

Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me.
I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the
gentle condition of blood, you should so know me:
What do you here?

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-ke qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong ta me, and I will no longer endure it; there he allow me such exercises as may become a genti man, or give me the poor allottery my father lea me by testament; with that I will go buy my tor

tunes.

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.

Orl. 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 lost my teeth in your service.-God be with ry old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM Oli. Is it even so begin you to grow upon me! I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou sand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis! Enter DENNIS. Den. Calls your worship?

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

2 Villain is used in a double sense; by Oliver, for a worthless fellow and by Orlando, for a man of tư extraction.

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

Twill be a

Oui. Call him in. Exit DENNIS. good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter CHARLES.

Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Oi. Good monsieur Charles!-what's the new Lews at the new court? Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary ex le with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

O. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father!

Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin. so 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 than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oh. Where will the old duke live?

Ch. 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 gentlemen flock to himevery day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they da in the golden world.

O. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the

Dew duke?

Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to unGerstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, bath a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a tal: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, Abail acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to for him, as I must, for my own honor, 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.

mistress of: and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you would teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remembe any extraordinary pleasure.

Čel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy ban father, so thou hadst been still with me. I could ished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my have taught my love to take thy father for mine so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. estate, to rejoice in yours. Ros. Well, I will forfeit the condition of my

Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies from thy father perforce, I will render thee again thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my in aflection; by mine honor, I will; and when I sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

sports; let me see; What think you of falling in love? Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise

but love no min in good earnest; nor no further in Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honor come off again.

Ros. What shall be our sport then?

Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

Ros. 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 honest, she makes very ill-favor'dly. scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes

to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office in the lineaments of nature.

Enter TOUCHSTONE.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature may she not by fortune fall into the fire ?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off

Oa. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. Iof nature's wit. bad myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work and have by underhand means labored to dissuade neither, but nature's: who perceiving our natural bim from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent Charles-be is the stubbornest young fellow of this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulFrance; full of ambition, an envious emulator ofness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How every man's good parts, a secret and villanous now, wit? whither wander you? contriver against me his natural brother; therefore 1 thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look lot; for if thou do st him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some tracherous device, and never leave thee till he hath

weep,

taen thy life by some indirect means or other; for,
I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there
s not one so young and so villanous this day living.
I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anato-
taze him to thee as he is, I must blush and
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. O Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him: for my 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 beart 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 stal clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the bry thither, which now I'll go about. [Eri. SCENE II.—A Lawn before the Duke's Palace.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
Ros. Dear Celia, I show more nirth than I am
Frolicksome fellow.

Of all ranks.

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel. Where you made the messenger! Touch. No, by mine honor; but I was bid to come for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his honor the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn.

Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge!

Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. 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.

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honor, 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't that thou mean'st?

Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honor him. Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak Wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for since the little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show

Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.

• Satire.

Enter LE BEAU.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to

their young.

Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bonjour, Monsieur Le Beau: What's the news?

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.

Cel. Sport?

Of what color?

Le Beau. What color, madam? answer you?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Touch. Or as the destinies decree.

How shall I

Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies; I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. 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 Beau. There comes an old man, and his three Bons,

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence ;

Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto all men by these presents,

Le Beau. 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 served the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Ros. Alas!

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is the first time that I ever heard, breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

upon

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes rib-breaking-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? Le Beau. You must, if you stay here: for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perforin it.

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now stay and see it.

Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, OrLANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants.

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le Bean. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully.

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Ros. Ay, my licge! so please you give us leave. Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain 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 Beau. Duke F. Do so: I'll not be by. [DUKE goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses

call for you.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler!

Orl. 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 seen cruel proof of this man's strength; if you saw yourself with your eyes

embrace

your own safety, and give over this attempt. Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not the duke, that the wrest.ing might not go forward. therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. but hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much gudty, let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious: if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: 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.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.

Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you!

Čel. Your heart's desires be with you.

Cha. Come where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?

Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily per suaded him from a first.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [CHARLES and ORLANDO wristć. Ros. O excellent young man!

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tel: who should down. [CHARLES is thrown. Shout. Duke F. No more, no more. Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. [CHARLES is borne out What is thy name, young man!

Ort. Orlando, ny liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois.

Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honorable,
But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this
deed,

Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;
I would thou hadst told me of another father.

[Exeunt DUKE FRED., Train, and LE BEAU Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this! Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest son;-and would not change that calling,

To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

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The Works of William Shakespeare: Complete, Accurately Printed from the Text ...