Le Beu: The eldeit 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 lie, the poor old man their father making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping. · Ros. Alas! Clo. But what is the sport, Monsieur, that the ladies have lost? Le Beu. Why this that I speak of. Clo. Thus men may grow wiser every day! It is the first time that ever I head breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Rof. But is there any else longs to set this broken music in his fides ? is there yet another doats upon ribbreaking ? shall we see this wrestling, cousin Le Beu. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the 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 iro treated, his own peril on his forwardness. Rof. Is yonder the man? Duke. How now, daughter and cousin; are you crept hither to see the wreitling? Rof. Ay, my Liege, so please you give us leave. Duke. 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, but he will not be intreated. Speak to him, Ladies, see if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beu. - VOL.II. Ff Duke. for you. Duke. Do fo; l'll not be by. [Duke goes apart. Le Beu. Monsieur the challenger, the Princeffes call Orla. I attend them with all respect and duty. Rof. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler ? Orla. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the trength of my youth. Cel. Young Gentleman, your fpirits are too bold for your years: you have seen crucl proof of this man's trength. If you faw yourself with our eyes, or knew yourself with our judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own fafety, 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. Orla. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny fo fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial; where in if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be so. I fhall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. Ref. The little strength that I have I would it were with you. Cel. And mine to eek out her's. Rof. Fare you well; pray Heav'n I be deceiv'd in you. Orla. Your hearts' desires be with you! Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orla. Ready, Sir; but his will hath in it a more mo reit worsing Duke. You shall try but one fall. treat treat him to a second, that have so mightily perfuaded him from a first. Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me before ; but come your ways, Ref. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man ! Gel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg! [They wrestle, Ref. O excellent young man ! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. Duke. No more, no more. [Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed. - Duke. How dost thou, Charles ? in Le Beu. He cannot fpeak, my Lord. Duke, Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? Orla. Orlando, my Liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. ' 1. Duke. I would thou hadst been fon to fome man else! The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy: Thou should'At have better pleas'd me with this deed, Hadit thou descended from another house. But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth ; I would thou hadlt told me of another father, [Exit Duke, with his train. SCENE VII. Manent Celia, Rofalind, Orlando. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ? Orla. I anı more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest fon, and would not change that calling To be adopted heir to Frederick. Rof. My father lov’d Sir Rowland as his soul, Gel. Gentle cousin, If ، الروز my better you: fare you well. If you do keep your promises in love, Rof. Gentleman, Cel. Ay, fare you well, fair Gentleman. parts tunes. Cel. Will you go, coz } [Exeunt Ros. and Cel. Orla. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ? Enter Le Beu. Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you Orla. 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 Beu.Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter; The other's daughter to the banilh'd Duke, And here detain'd by her ufurping uncle To keep his daughter company; whofe loves Are And dearer than the natural bond of fifters. : Orla. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well! [Exit. S CE N E VIII. Changes to an apartment in the palace, Re-enter Celia and Rosalind. , , 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. Rof. 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? Ref. No, some of it is for my father's child. Oh, how full of briars is this working-day-world! Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could lhake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. Gel. Hem them away. Rol: 0, they take the part of a better wrestler than inyself. Gel. |