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Rof. Do, young Sir; your reputation fhall not therefore be mifprifed. We will make it our fuit to the Duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

Orla. 7 I befeech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confefs me much guilty, to deny fo fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wifhes go with me to my trial, wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one afham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be fo. I fhall 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 fupplied when I have made it empty.

Rof. The little ftrength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine to eke out hers.

Rof. Fare you well. Pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd in you.

Cel. Your heart's defire be with you!

Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is fo defirous to lie with his mother earth?

Orla. Ready, Sir. But his will hath in it a more modeft working.

Duke. You fhall try but one Fall.

Cha. No-I warrant your Grace; you fhall not entreat him to a second, that have fo mightily perfuaded him from a first.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you fhould not have mocked me before; but come your ways. Rof. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man! Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg! [they wrestle.

Rof. O excellent young man!

7 I beseech you, punish me not, &c.] I fhould wish to read, I beseech you punish me not with your hard thoughts. Therein I

VOL. II.

confefs myfelf much guilty to deny So fair and excellent ladies any thing.

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Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who fhould down. [Shout. 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?

Le Beu. He cannot speak, my Lord.

Duke. Bear him away.-What is thy name, young

man ?

Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest fon of Sir Rowland de Boys.

Duke. I would, thou hadst been fon to fome man elfe!

The world efteem'd thy Father honourable,

But I did find him ftill mine enemy:

Thou shouldft have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadft thou defcended from another House.

But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth; --I would thou hadft told me of another father. [Exit Duke, with his train.

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Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. 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.

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

Cel. Gentle Coufin,

Let us go thank him and encourage him
My father's rough and envious difpofition

Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd:

If

you do keep your promifes in love,

But juftly as you have exceeded all promife,

Your mistress fhall be happy.

Rof. Gentleman,

Wear this for me; one out of fuits with fortune 8, That would give more, but that her hand lacks means. -Shall we go, coz? [Giving him a Chain from ber Neck. Cel. Ay-Fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you?.

parts

-my better

Are all thrown down; and that which here ftands
Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block.

up,

Rof. He calls us back-my pride fell with my for

tunes.

I'll ask him what he would--Did you call, Sir?-
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Rof. Have with you-Fare you well.

[Exeunt Rofalind and Celia. Orla. What paffion hangs these weights upon my

tongue?

I cannot speak to her; yet fhe urg'd conference.

8 one out of fuits with fortune,] This feems an allufion to cards, where he that has no more cards to play of any particular fort is out of fuit.

9 Is but a quintaine, a meer lifeless block.] A Quintaine was a Poft or Butt fet up for several kinds of martial exercises, against which they threw their darts and exercised their arms. The allufion is beautiful, I am, fays Orlando, only a quintaine, a lifeless block on which love only exercises his arms in jeft; the great difparity of condition between Rofalind and

me, not suffering me to hope that love will ever make a ferious matter of it. The famous fatirift Regnier, who lived about the time of our author, uses the fame metaphor, on the fame subject, tho' the thought be different.

C 2

Et qui depuis dix ans, jusqu'en
Jes derniers jours,
A foutenu le prix en l' efcrime d'

amours

Laffe en fin de fervir au peuple
de QUINTAINE,
Elle, &c.

WARBURTON.

Enter

1

Enter Le Beu.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or fomething weaker, masters thee.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deferv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition',

That he misconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orla. I thank you, Sir. And, pray you, tell me this,
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke
That here was at the wrestling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by man

ners;

But yet, indeed, the fhorter is his daughter.
The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detain'd by her ufurping Uncle
To keep his daughter company; whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleafure 'gainft his gentle Niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praife her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will fuddenly break forth.-Sir, fare ye well;
Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you. [Exit.
Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare ye well!'
Thus muft I from the fmoke into the fmother;

From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother:
But, heav'nly Rofalind!

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[Exit.

Antonio, the Merchant of Venice, is called by his friend the best conditioned man.

SCENE

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Cel.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Re-enter Celia and Rofalind.

HY, Coufin; why, Rofalind-Cupid have mercy-not a word!

WH

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be caft away upon curs, throw fome of them at me; come, lame me with reafons.

Rof. Then there were two coufins laid up; when the one should be lamed with Reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rof. No, fome of it is for my father's child. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could hake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Rof. I would try, if I could cry hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Rof. O, they take the part of a better Wrestler than myself.

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a Fall.-But turning these jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earneft. Is it poffible on fuch a fudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest fon?

Rof. 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 husband. child's father, that is, as it is

C 3

Cele

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