Oli. Know you before whom, Sir?

Orla. Ay, better than he, I am before, knows me. I know, you are my eldest brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you fhould fo know me; the courtely of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first 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 confefs 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 youngest 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 thyself.

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 pleafe: 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 strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me fuch 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 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. 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 maffer,

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 phyfick your ranknefs, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis !

Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your worship?

Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to fpeak with me?

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.

Oli. Call him in;

morrow the wrestling is.

'twill be a good way; and to

Enter Charles.

Char. Good-morrow to your worship.

Oli. Good Monfieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court?

Char. 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 loving Lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him; 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 banish'd with her father?

Char. O, no; for the Duke's daughter her coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to flay behind her. She is at the court, and no lefs beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two Ladies loved, as they do.

Oli. Where will the old Duke live?

Char. They fay, he is already in the foreft of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they fay, many

young

young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet- the time carelefly, as they did in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrefile 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 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 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 ftay 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 most kindly requite. I had myfelf notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by under-hand means labour'd 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 secret and villanous contriver againft me his natural brother; therefore ufe thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didft 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 himfelf on thee, he will practise against thee by poison; entrap thee by fome treacherous device; and never leave thee 'till he has 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 villanous 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

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he.

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 fchool'd, and yet learn'd; 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 best know him, that I am altogether misprifed. But it shall 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 Rofalind and Celia.

Pray thee, Rofalind, fweet my coz, be merry.

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

Rof. What fhall be our sport then?

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

Rof. I would, we could do fo; for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doft molt mistake in her gifts to women.

Cel. "Tis true; for thefe, that the makes fair, fhe scarce makes honeft; and those, that the makes honest, the 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 Clown.

Cel. No; when nature hath made a fair creature, may fhe not by fortune fall into the fire tho' nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this fool to cut off this argument?

Roj. 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.

Ref. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. Of a certain Knight, that fwore by his honour

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they