Orla. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made; a poor unworthy brother of your's, with idlenefs.

Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employ'd, and be nought a while.

་

Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? what Prodigal's portion have I spent, that I should come to fuch penury?

Oli. Know you where you are, Sir?

Orla. O, Sir, very well; here in your Orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, Sir?

Orla. Ay, better than he I am before, knows me. I know, you are my elder brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me; the courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the firft born; but the fame tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

Orla. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orla. I am no villain: I am the younger fon of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain, that says, fuch a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, 'till this other had pull'd out thy tongue for faying fo; thou haft rail'd on thyfelf.

Adam. Sweet mafters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

Orla. I will not, 'till I please: you fhall hear me. My father charg'd you in his Will to give me good education; you have train'd me up like a peafant, obfcuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities; the fpirit of my father grows ftrong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me fuch exercise 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 fpent? well, Sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you fhall have fome part of your will. I pray you, leave me.

Orla.

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 fervice. God be with my old master, he would not have spoke fuch a word.

Exit. ORLANDO and ADAM. Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? I will phyfic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!

Enter DENNIS.

Den. Calls your Worship?

Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's Wreftler, here to fpeak 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 to-morrow the wrestling is.

Enter CHARLES.

Cha. Good-morrow to your Worfhip.

Oli. Good Monfieur 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 banished by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loving lords have put themfelves into voluntary exile with h.m; whofe lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

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

Cha. O, no; for the Duke's daughter her coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that fhe 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 gen

tlemen

tlemen 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, Sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, fecretly to understand, that your younger brother Orlando hath a difpofition to come in difguis'd against me to try a Fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, fhall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be loath to foil him; as I must 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 fearch, and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou fhalt find I will moft kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by under. hand means laboured to diffuade him from it; but he is refolute. I tell thee, Charles, he is the ftubborneft 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 ufe thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his 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 poifon; entrap thee by some treacherous device; and never leave thee, 'till he hath ta'en thy life by fome indirect means or other; for I affure thee, (and almoft with tears I fpeak it) there is not one fo young and fo villainous this day living. I fpeak 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 shall see 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 efpecially of my own people, who

beft

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.

SCENE changes to an open Walk, before the Duke's

Palace.

Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.

Cel. I pray thee, Rofalind, fweet my coz, be merry, Rof. Dear Celia, Ifhow 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.

Col. 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 ftill with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would'ft 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 eftate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. You know, my father hath no child but me, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou fhalt 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 sweet Rofe, my dear Rose, be merry.

Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devife fports; let me fee, what think you of falling in love?

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee do, to make fport withal; but love no man in good earnest, nor no further in fport neither, than with fafety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.

Rof What thall be our sport then?

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

Rof. I would, we could do fo; for her benefits are mightily

mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth moft mistake in her gifts to women,

Cel. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair, she scarce makes honeft; 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 The 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?

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 whetstone of the wits. How now, Wit, whither wander you?

Clo. Miftrefs, you must come away to your father.
Cel. Were you made the meffenger?

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 swore 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 this knight fwearing by his honour, for he never had

any;