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Ref. Yet tell us the manner of the Wrestling.
Le Beu. I will tell you the Beginning, and if it please your Ladyships, you may see che 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 Beu. There comes an old Man and his three Sons.
Cel. I would match this beginning with an old Tale. · Le Beu. Three proper young Men of excellent Growth and Presence.
Rof. With Bills on their Necks: Be it known unto all Men by these Presents.
Le Ben. The eldest of the 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 serv'd the second, and so the third : Yonder they lye, che poor old Man their Father, making fuch pitiful Dole over them, that all the Beholders take his Part with weeping..
Clo. But what is the Sport, Monsieur, that the Ladies have lost?
Le Beu. Why this is that I speak of.
Clo. Thus Men grow wiser every Day. It is the first time that ever I heard of breaking of Ribs was Sport for Ladies.
Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Ref. But is there any else longs to see this broken Mufick in his Sides? Is there yet another doats upon Rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, Cousin?
Le Beu. You must if you stay here, for here is the Place appointed for wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.
Cel. Yonder sure they are coming: Let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles,
and Attendants. Duke. Come on, since the Youth will not be entreated, His own Peril on his forwardness. Rof. Is yonder the Man?
Duke. Do for bither, good Mesif you can
Le Beu. Even he, Madam. .
Cel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully.' isi -. Duke. How now, Daughter and Cousin; ; : - Are you crept hither to see the Wrestling?
Rof. Ay, my Liege, so please you give us leave,
Duke. You will take little Delight in it, I can tell vou, there is such odds in the Man: In Pity of the Challenger's T: Youth, I would fain diffuade him, but he wil not be enGa treated. Speak to him, Ladies, see if you can move him.
Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beu. . . Lena Duke. Do so; I'll not be by. .
Le Ben. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princiss calls 'for a you.
Orla. I attend her with all Respect and Duty:
Ref. Young Man, have you challeng'd Charles the Wreftler?
Orla. No, fair Princess; he is the general Challenger, I come but as others do, to try with him the Strength of my Youth.
Cel. Young Gentleman, your Spirits are too bold for your Years: You have seen cruel Proof of this Man's Strength. If you saw your self with your Eyes, or knew your self with your Judgment, the fear of your Adventure would counfel you to a more equal Enterprise. We pray you for your own Sake to embrace your own Safety, and give over this Attempt.
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. i
Orla. I beleech you punish me not with your hard Thoughts, wherein i confefs me much guilty to deny fo fair and excellent Ladies any thing : Bait let your fair Eyes and gentle Wishes go with me to my Trial, v herein if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'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 the World no Injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the World I fill up a Place, which may be better supply'd when I have made it empty,
Rof: The little Strength I have, I would it were with you. Cel, And mine to eek out hers,
Rof. Fare you well; pray Heav'n I be deceiv'd in you.
Char. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is so de
Orla. Řeady Sir, but his Will hath in it a more modeli working.
Duke. You Tall try but one Fall.
Char. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entrea him to a second, that have so mightily perfuaded him fron first.
Orla. You mean to mock me after ; you should not have mockt before; but come your ways.
Ref. Now Hercules be chy speed, young Man.
Col. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong Fel: low by the Leg.
Rof. Oh exceļlent young Man.
Cel. If I had a Thunderbolt in mine Eye, I can tell who thould down.
[Sbou, Duke. No more, no more,
[Charles is brown. Orle. Yes, I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How do'st thou, Charles?
Drake. Bear him away.
Orla. Orlanda, my Liege, the youngest Son of Sir Roman land de Boys.
Duke. I would thou hadft been Son to some Map elfe;
[Exit Dukan Cel. Were I my Father, Coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am m re proud to be Sir Rawland's Son,
Ref. My Father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul,
, I should have given him Tears unto Entreaties,
E'er he should chus have ventur’d. - Cel. Gentle Cousin,
Let us go thank him, and encourage him ; . My Father's rough and envious Disposition - Sticks me at Heart. Sir, you have well deservod,
If you do keep your Promises in Love, ... But justly as you have exceeded all in Promise,
Your Mistress shall be happy:
· Rof. Gentleman,
Cel. Ay; fare you well, fair Gentleman.
Orla, Can I not say, I thank you? My better Parts
Rof. He calls us back: my Pride fell with my Fortunes.
Cel. Will you go, Coz?
Orla. What Palljon hangs these Weights upon my Tongue?
Enter Le Beu.
Le Bek. Good Sir, I do in Friendship counsel you
Orla. I thank you Sir, and pray you tell me this,
Le Beu. Neither his Daughter, if we judge by Manners,
Cel Willyour Enem: well, and you call 'Si ny Fortune
And here his daughtenarural Bre this Dule Ncice,
And here detain'd by her usurping Uncle
Orla. I rest much bounden to you: Fare you well!
[Exit, SCENE III.
Enter Celia and Rosalind. Cel. Why Cousin, why Rosalind; Cupid have Mercy; not a word !
Rof. 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.
Ross. Then there were two Cousins laid up, when the one should 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 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...