tament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Jand have by underhand means laboured to dissuade Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be Charles,-it is the stubbornest young fellow of troubled with you: you shall have some part of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of your will: I pray you, leave me. every man's good parts, a secret and villanous Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes contriver against me his natural brother; thereme for my good. fore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. Alam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, have lost my teeth in your service.-God be with or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he my old master, he would not have spoke such a will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam. some treacherous device, and never leave thee till Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? 'he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou- other: for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I sand crowns neither.-Holia, Dennis! speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him but him as is, i must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Enter Dennis.

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!

Den. Calls your worship?

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

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

Oli. Call him in. (Exit Dennis.]-Twill be good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.

a

[Exil.

Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir this gamester:2 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

Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his the heart of the world, and especially of my own younger brother the new dake; and three or four people, who best know him, that I am altogether loving lords have put themselves into voluntary misprized: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. SCENE II-A lawn before the Duke's palace. Enter Rosalind and Celia.

to wander.

Enter Charles.

Cha. Good morrow to your worship.

Oli. Good monsieur Charles! what's the new news at the new court?

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

Cha. O, no; for the dike'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.

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.

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

Ros. Dear Celia, I show 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 see, thou lovest me not with the

Oli. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy baArden, and a many merry men with him; and nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: my father, so thou hads't been still with me, I could they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every have taught my love to take thy father for mine; day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in so would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me the golden world. were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es tate, to rejoice in yours.

Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken hith a disposition to come in disgui'd against me away from thy father perforce, I will render thee to try a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and credit: and he that escapes me without some bro-when I break that oath, let me turn mons'er: thereken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is fore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. but young, and tender; and, for your love, I would Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, sports: let me see; What think you of falling in if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I love?

Ros. What shall be our sport then?

came hither to acquaint you withal; that either Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: you might stay him from his intendment, or brook but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it port neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou is a thing of his own search, and altogether against may'st in honour come off again. my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, (2) Frolicksome fellow.

(1) A ready assent.

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

(3) Of all ranks.

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 scarce makes nonest; and nose, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.

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

Cel. Pe. adventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour 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?

Enter Touchstone.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire!-are coming to perform it. Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off buried. the argument?

Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit.

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 honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those 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! speak no more of him: you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days.

1

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

Cel. By iny 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.

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

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

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. jour, monsieur Le Beau: What's

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

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.

Beau. The eldest of 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

Cel. Were you made the messenger?

Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to dole over them, that all the beholders take his part come for you. with weeping.

Ros. Alas!

the news?

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

Cel. Of what colour?

Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lust 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

Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and

Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his three sons,

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 liege? 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,

Enter Le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed but he will not be entreated: Speak to him, ladies: their young. see if you can move him.

Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by.

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

Le Beau. Even he, madam.

[Duke goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the prin cesses call for you.

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

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I the wrestler ? answer you?

(1) Satire.

(2) Perplex, confuse.

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.

Scene III.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold I should have given him tears unto entreaties, for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this Ere he should thus have ventur'd. Gentle cousin, man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes,

Cel.

or knew yourself with your judgm nt, the fear Let us go thank him, and encourage him : of your adventure would counsel you to a more My father's rough and envious disposition equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv'd: sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over If you do keep your promises in love, But justly, as you have exceeded promise, this attempt. Your mistress shall be happy. Ros.

means.

Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not Gentleman, therefore be misprized; we will make it our suit to [Giving him a chain from her neck. the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. Ol. I beseech you, punish me not with your Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune;* hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, That could give more, but that her hand lacks to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me Shall we go, coz? Ay:-Fare you well, fair gentleman. to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my Are all thrown down; and that which here stands [up, friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world Ill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.

Cel.

fortunes:

Rus. 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!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you!

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

I

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

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

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 wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell 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 nane young man?

Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of

sir Rowland de Bois.

0

poor

Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.
Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place: Albeit, you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the duke's condition,4
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous: what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.

Orl. 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 Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by

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,

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,

Cel.

Will you go, coz? Ros. Have with you:-Fare you well. [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?

cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. Re-enter Le Beau.

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

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy:

But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady

Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this Will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well;

deed,

Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. I rest much bounden to you; fare you well!
[Erit Le Beau.
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant duke, unto a tyrant brother :-
[Exit.
But heavenly Rosalind!
SCENE III-A room in the palace. Enter
Celia and Rosalind.

(1) Appellation. (2) Turned out of her service. (s) The object to dart at in martial exercises.

manners;

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have mercy!-Not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast

(4) Temper, disposition.

away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, [ Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, lame me with reasons. It was your pleasure, and your own remorse ;* Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when I was too young that time to value her, the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other But now I know her: if she be a traitor, mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Ros. No, some of it for my child's father: 0, how full of briers 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. Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. 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.

Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Stil we wem coupled, and inseparable.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her
smoothness,

Her very silence, and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more
virtuous,

When she is gone: then open not thy lips;
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my
liege;

I

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in
time, in despite of a fall.-But, turning these jests
out of service, let us talk in good earnest: Is it pos-
sible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so
strong a liking with old sir Rowland's youngest son? If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should
love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should
hate him, for my father hated his father dearly;'
yet I hate not Orlando.

cannot live out of her company.
Duke F. You are a fool:-You, niece, provide
yourself;

Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake.
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love
him, because I do :-Look, here comes the duke.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Enter Duke Frederick, with lords.
Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest
haste,

And get you from our court.

Ros.

Me, uncle?
You, cousin;

Duke F.
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros.
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence,

I do beseech your grace,

Or have acquaintance with mine own desires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,
(As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn,
Did I offend your highness.

Duke F

Thus do all traitors;
If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:-
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor;
Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's
enough.

Ros. So was I, when your highness took his
dukedom;

So was I, when your highness banish'd him;
Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor:
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

I

[Exeunt Duke Frederick and lords.
Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am.
Ros. I have more cause.
Cel.
Thou hast not, cousin ;
Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros.
That he hath not.
Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teache:h thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me, how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel.
To seek my uncle.
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber3 smirch my face;
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Ros.
Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe4 upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will,)
We'll have a swashing and martial outside;
As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a
man?

Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own
page,

And therefore look you call me, Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state,

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, No longer Celia, but Aliena. Else had she with her father rang'd along.

(1) Inveterately. (2) Compassion.
(3) A dusky, yellow-coloured earth.

Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court?

(1) Barbed arrows. (2) Encounter. (3) Scurvy.
(4) Sink into dejection.
(5) Memorial.

'Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part
The flux of company: Anon, a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on, you fal and greasy citizens;
'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life; swearing, that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and to kill them up,
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contem-
2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com-
plation?