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Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?
Orla. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, 'till this other had pull'dout thy tongue for saying so; thou hast rail'd on thyself.
Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord.
Oli. Let me go, I say.
Orla. I will not, 'till I please : you shall hear me. My father charg'd you in his Will to give me good education: you have train'd me up like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities; the Spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by teftament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.
Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? well, Sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some part of your will. I pray you, leave me.
Orla. I will no further offend you, than becomes me for my good.
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
Adam. Is old dog my reward? most true, I have loft my teeth in your service. service. God be with
old master, he would not have spoke such a word.
(Exeunt Orlando and Adam.
S CE N E III. Oli. S it even so ? begin you to grow upon me?
I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!
Enter Dennis. Den. Calls your Worship? Vol. III.
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;--'twill be a good way; and tomorrow the wrestling is.
Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new Court ?
Cha. There's no news at the Court, Sir, but the old news; that is, the old Duke is banish'd by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four lov. ing lords have put themselves into' voluntary exile with him; whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he gives them good leave to wander.
Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, be banish'd with her father?
Cha. 0, no ; * for the new Duke's daughter her cousin so loves her, being ever from their cradle 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.
Oli. Where will the old Duke live?
Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they fay, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelesly, as they did in the golden world.
Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?
Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acquaint you
with a matter. I am given, Sir, secretly to understand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a * for the Duke's daughter her cousin] read, the new Duke's.
disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a Fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he, that escapes me without some broken limb, shall acquit him well. Your brotheris but young and tender, and for your love I would be loth to foil him ; as I muft for mine own honour, if he come int; therefore out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.
Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find, I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is refolute. I tell thee, Charles, he is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck, as his finger. And, thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him
any flight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison; entrap
thee by some treacherous device; and never leave thee, 'till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for I assure thee, (and almost with tears I speak it) there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.
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 Worlhip,
[Exit. Oli. Farewel, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my
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 enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people who best know him, that I am altogether misprised. But it shall not be fo, long; this wrestler shall clear all; nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now
SCEN E IV.
Changes to an Open Walk, before the Duke's Palace.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my.coz, be merry:
Rof. 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 banish'd father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.
Cel. Herein, I see, thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle the Duke, my father, so thou hadft been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would's thou if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee. Ros
. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.
Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection ; by mine Honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster : therefore, ny sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry,
Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise Sports : let me see, what think you of falling in love ?
Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal : but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.
Rof. What shall be our Sport then? Cel. Let us fit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
Rof. 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 honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favoured.
Rof. Nay, now' thou goeft from fortune's office to nature's : fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature.
Enter Touchstone, a Clown. Cel. No! when nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire? tho' nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this Fool to cut off this argument ?
Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature ; when fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter off of nature's Wit.
Cel. Peradventure, 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 dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, Wit, whither wander you?
Clo. Mistress, you must come away to your father.