gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.

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

Cha. Marry, do I, fir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, fir, fecretly to understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a difpofition to come in difguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, fir, 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 your love, I would be loth to foil him, as I muft, for my 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 disgrace well as he shall 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'll tell thee, Charles,-it is the stubborneft young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: And thou wert beft look to't; for if thou dost him any flight difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, 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 so young and fo villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize B 3

him

him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou muft 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 wreftle for prize more: And so, 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 school'd, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all forts 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 mifprifed: but it thall not be fo long; this wreftler shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.

SCENE II.

A Lawn before the Duke's Palace.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

Cel. I pray thee, Rofalind, fweet 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 banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Herein, I fee, thou loveft 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 hadst 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 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 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 monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

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

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earneft; nor no further in 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 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, she scarce makes honeft; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.

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

Enter TOUCHSTONE.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may The not by fortune fall into the fire?-Though nature hath

B 4

given

given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this fool to cut off the 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 reason of such goddeffes, hath sent this natural for our whetstone for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Touch. Miftrefs, you must come away to your father. Cel. Were you made the meffenger?

:

Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Touch. Of a certain knight, that fwore 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 mustard 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.

Touch. Stand you both forth nów: ftroke your chins, and fwear 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 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't that thou mean'st?

Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough!

fpeak

speak no more of him; you'll be whip'd for taxation, one

of thefe days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wife men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou fay'st true: for fince the little wit that fools have, was filenced, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monfieur Le Beau.

Enter LE BEAU.

Rof. With his mouth full of news.

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Rof. Then fhall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. All the better; we fhall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monfieur Le Beau: What's the news?

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have loft much good sport. Cel. Sport? Of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How fhall I answer you?

Rof. As wit and fortune will.

Touch. Or as the deftinies decree.

Cel. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel.

Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,

Rof. Thou lofeft thy old fmell.

Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have loft the fight of. Rof. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your ladyships, you may fee 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.