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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 your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial, wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one asham'd that was never gracious; if killd, 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
Rof. The little strength that I have, I would it were
Cel. And mine to eke out hers.
Rof. Fare you well. Pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd in you.
Cel. Your heart's desire be with you !
Cba. 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 a more modest working
Duke. You shall try but one Fall. .
Cha. No-I warrant your Grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, tliat have so mightily persuaded him from a firft.
Orla. You mean to mock me after ; you should not have mocked 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!
[they wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man ! 7 I beseech you, punish me not, confess myself much guilty to deny &c.] I should wish to read, I le fair and excellent ladies any beseech you punish me not with thing. your hard thoughts. Therein I Vol. II,
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.
[shout. Duke. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown.
Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace. I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How dost thou, Charles ?
Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir
[Exit Duke, with his train.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,
Ros. My father lov’d Sir Rowland as his soul,
Cel. Gentle Cousin,
If you do keep your promises in love,
Cel. Ay-Fare you well, fair gentleman.
up, Is but a quintaine”, a mere lifeless block. Rof. He calls us back-my pride fell with my
I'll ask him what he would-Did you call, Sir?--
Cel. Will you go, coz?
[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Orla. What passion hangs these weights upon my
tongue ? I cannot speak to her ; yet she urg'd conference.
8 - one out of suits with for- me, not suffering me to hope that tune,] This seems an allusion to love will ever make a serious matcards, where he that has no more ter of it. The famous satirist cards to play of any particular Regnier, who lived about the sort is out of suit.
time of our author, uses the fame 9 Is but a quintaine, a meer metaphor, on the fame subject, lifeless block.) A Quintaine was tho' the thought be different. a Poft or Butt set up for several kinds of martialexercises against Et qui depuis dix ans, jusqu'en which they threw their darts and jes derniers jours, exercised their arms. The allusion A foutenu le prix en l'efcrime d' is beautiful, I am, says Orlando, amours; only a quintaine, a lifeless block Loe en fin de feruir au peuple on which love only exercises his de QUINTAINE, arms in jeft; the great disparity Elle, &c. of condition between Rosalind and
O poor Orlando ! thou art overthrown;
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
Orla. I thank you, Sir. And, pray you, tell me this,
Orla. I rest much bounden to you : fare ye well!
the Duke's condition.] Antonio, the Merchant of Venice, The word condition means chi- is called by his friend the best sacter, temper, difpofition. So conditioned man.
SC Ε Ν Ε
Changes to an tipartment in the Palace.
Re-enter Celia and Rosalind.
HY, Cousin; why, Rosalind – Cupid have
mercy-not a word ! Roj. Not one to throw at a dog.
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.
Rof. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lained with Reasons, and the other mad without any.
Cel. But is all this for your father?
Rof. No, some of it is for my father's child”. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world !
Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery ; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Rof. I could Inake them off my coat; these burs
my Cel. Hem them away. Rof. I would try, if I could cry hem, and have him, Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
Ros. O, they take the part of a better Wrestler than myself. Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you
in time, in despight of a Fall.-But turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest. Is it possible on such a sudden you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son ?
Ros. The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly.
2—for my father's child.]'The explained by Mr. Theobald, for old Editions have it, for my my future husbar.d. child's father, that is, as it is