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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 pulled out thy tongue for saying fo; 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 charged you in his Will to give me good education; you have trained me up like a peafant, 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 testament; 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 lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master, he would not have spoke such a word.
[Exe. Orlando and Adam.
Oli. Is it even so ?-Begin you to grow upon me? -I will physick your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis !
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-[Exit Dennis.] 'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.
Cha. Good-morrow to your Worship.
Oli. Good monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new Court ?
Cha. There's no news at the Court, Şir, 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; whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he gives them good leave to wander.
Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the old Duke's daughter ?, be banish'd with her father?
Cha. O, no; for the new Duke's daughter her cousin so loves her, being ever from their cradles 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 say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and feet the time carelelly, as they did in the golden world.
Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?
7 The old Duke's daughter.] of the dialogue, are inserted The words old and new, which from Sir 7, Hanmer's Edition. feem neceffary to the perfpicuity
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 difposition 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 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 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 under-hand means laboured to dissuade him from it ; but he is resolute. 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 didft break his neck, as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight 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, 'cill he hath ta'en thy life by fome 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 fpeak 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 cane 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 Worship. [Exit.
Oli. Farewel, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamester : I hope I shall see an end of him ; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing inore than him. 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 so long-this wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about.
Changes to an Open Walk, before the Duke's Palace.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Cel. Pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I ain 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 wouldst 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 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 devise Sports, Let me fee-What think you of falling in love ?
Cel. Marry, I proythee, 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 sit and mock the gcod 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, the scarce makes honest; and those that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favoured.
Ros. Nay, now thou goest 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 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 Goddesles, hath sent this
8 mock the good housewife only figures uncertainty and viFortune from her wheel.] The cislitude, with the destiny that wheel of fortune is not the wheel spins the thread of life, though of a kousewife. Shakespeare has indeed not with a wheel. confounded fortune, whose wheel