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yourself 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 fir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our fuit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.
Orla. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts: herein I confefs me much guilty, to deny fo 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 fham'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 supplied 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 heaven I be deceiv'd in you! Cel. Your heart's defires be with you!
Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so defirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orla. Ready, fir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.
Duke. You fhall try but one fall.
Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a fecond, 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.
be mifprifed:]-fuffer any impeachment.
* If you mean.
Rof. Now, Hercules be thy fpeed, young man! Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg! [They wrestle.
Ref. O excellent young man!
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 doft thou, Charles?
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? Orla. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of fir Rowland de Boys.
Duke. I would, thou hadst been son to some man else. The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him ftill mine enemy:
Thou shouldft have better pleas'd me with this deed,
[Exit Duke, with his train.
Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
His youngest fon;-and would not change that calling,.
Rof. My father lov'd fir Rowland as his foul,
Cel. Gentle cousin,
Let us go thank him, and encourage him :
Wear this for me; one
[Giving him a chain from her neck. out of fuits with fortune; but that her hand lacks means.
Cel. Ay-Fare you well, fair gentleman.
Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up, Is but a quintaine, a mere lifeless block..
Rof. He calls us back: My pride fell with my fortunes: I'll ask him what he would :-Did you call, fir?— 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.
Enter Le Beau.
O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Le Beau. Good fir, I do in friendship counsel you
out of fuits-out of her favour, difmifs'd her service.
a quintaine,]-a butt, or mark for military exercises; the ftake of
a trophy, which remains, when ftript of all its garniture.
Yet fuch is now the duke's "condition,
Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
But that the people praise her for her virtues,
An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Celia, and Rofalind.
Cel. Why, coufin; why, Rofalind;-Cupid have -Not a word?
e humourous;]-humourfome, peevish.
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 cousins laid up; when the one fhould be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any.
Cel. But is all this for your father?
Rof. No, fome of it is for my child's father: 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 shake 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.
Gel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in defpight of a fall.fall. But, turning thefe jefts out of fervice, let us talk in good earnett: Is it poffible on fuch a fudden you should fall into fo ftrong a liking with old fir Rowland's youngest son?
Rof. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly.
Cel. Doth it therefore enfue, that you should love his fon dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
my child's father :]-future husband-father's child.
a good with upon you !]-Heavens bless you.
dearly?]-to your heart.
kind of chafe,]-method of argument. k dearly;]-mortally.