ftay 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 fay, 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 carelefly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Cha. Marry, do I, fir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, fir, fecretly to understand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, fir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without fome broken limb, fhall acquit him well. Your brother is 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 in 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 fuch difgrace well as he fhall 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 moft kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to diffuade him from it; but he is refolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the ftubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck, as his feet the time]-pafs it away. finger, finger; and thou wert beft look to't; for if thou doft him any flight difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison; entrap thee by fome treacherous device; and never leave thee, 'till he hath ta'en thy life by fome indirect means or other: for, I affure thee, and almost with tears I fpeak it, there is not one fo young and fo villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but fhould 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 fo, God keep your worship! [Exit. Oli. Farewel good Charles.-Now will I ftir this gamefter: I hope, I fhall fee an end of him; for my foul, 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 forts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, fo much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether "mifprifed but it fhall not be fo long; this wrestler fhall clear all nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. An open Walk, before the Duke's Palace. Enter Rofalind and Celia. Cel. I pray thee, Rofalind, fweet my coz, be merry. Rof. Dear Celia, I fhow 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 fee, thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, fo thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were fo righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Rof. 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, my fweet Rofe, my dear Rofe, be merry. Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devife fports: let me fee; What think you of falling in love? Cel. Marry, I pry'thee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in fport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again. Rof. What fhall be our fport 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 fo; for her benefits are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth moft mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. 'Tis true: for thofe, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honeft; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly. 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?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this fool to cut off the argument? Rof. 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 reafon of fuch goddeffes, hath fent this natural for our whetstone for always the dulnefs of the fool is the whetftone of the wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Clo. Miftrefs, you must come away to your father. Cel. Were you made the messenger ? Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you. Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool? Clo. Of a certain knight, that fwore by his honour they were good pancakes, and fwore by his honour the mustard was naught now, I'll ftand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forfworn. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Clo. Stand you both forth now: ftroke your chins, and fwear by your beards that I am a knave. Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you fwear by that that is not, you are not forfworn: no more was was this knight, fwearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he faw those pancakes or that mustard. Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'ft? Clo. One that old Ferdinand, your father, loves. Rof. My father's love is enough to honour him: Enough! fpeak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days. Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wifely what wife men do foolishly. Cel. By my troth, thou fay'ft true: for fince the little wit, that fools have, was filenc'd, the little foolery, that wife men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monfieur Le Beau. Enter Le Beau. Rof. With his mouth full of news. Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rof. Then fhall we be news-cramm'd. Cel. All the better; we fhall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monfieur le Beau; what's the news? Le Beau. Fair princefs, you have loft much good fport. Cel. Sport? of what colour? Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you? Rof. As wit and fortune will. Clo. Or as the deftinies decree. Cel. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel. Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank, Rof. Thou losest thy old smell. t Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told P Frederick. T fools]-licenfed jefters. 9 taxation,]-flander, fcandal. * laid on with a trowel.]—an excellent random ftroke. t amaze me,]—confound, put me out of my ftory. you |