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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 fupply'd when I have made it empty.

Rof. The little ftrength that I have, I would it were with

you.

Cel. And mine to eek out hers.

Rof. Fare you well; pray heav'n I be deceiv'd in you. Orla. Your heart's defires be with you!

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so dẹfirous to lye with his mother earth?

Orla. Ready, Sir; but his will hath in it a more modeft working.

Duke. You fhall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you fhall not entreat him to a fecond, that have fo mightily perfuaded him from a first. Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mockt before; but come your ways.

Rof. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man!

Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg! [They wrefte.

Rof. O excellent young man!

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who fhould down.

Duke. No more, no more.

[Shout. [Charles is thrown. Orla, Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke. How doft thou, Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot fpeak, my Lord.

Duke, Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ? Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest fon of Sir Rosuland de Boys.

Duke. I would thou hadst been fon to fome man elfe; The world efteem'd thy father honourable,

But I did find him ftill mine enemy:

Thou shouldft have better pleas'd me with this deed,

Hadft thou defcended from another house,
But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth,
I would thou hadft told me of another father.

Exit Duke with his Train.
SCENE

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I have

SCENE VII.

Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am moft proud to be Sir Rowland's fon,
cre with His youngeft fon, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Rof. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his foul,
in you And all the world was of my father's mind
Had I before known this young man his fon,
Ifhould have giv'n him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he fhould thus have ventur'd.

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Cel. Gentle coufin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him,
My father's rough and envious difpofition
Sticks at my heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd
If you do keep your promifes in love

But justly, as you've here exceeded promise,
Your miftrefs fhall be happy.

Ref. Gentleman,

Wear this for me, one out of fuits with fortune,
That would give more, but that her hand lacks means.
Shall we go, coz?

[Giving him a chain from her nesk,

Cel. Ay; fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you? my better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here ftands up
If but a quintain, a meer lifeless block.

Rof. He calls us back my pride fell with my fortunes.
I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, Sir?
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Rof. Have with you: fare you well. [Exe. Rof, and Cel. Orla. What paffion hangs thefe weights upon my tongue? I cannot fpeak to her yet the urg'd conference."

Enter Le Beu.

Opoor Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or fomething weaker, mafters thee.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
place albeit you have deferv'd

To

Mation, true applause, and love;

Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition,

That

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Jeis aut hers.

Ca. Jace rom well; my heart I be deceiv'd in you. centres be with you!

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Ex Date with his Train
SCENE

SCENE VII.

Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orla. I am moft proud to be Sir Rowland's fon,
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,
And all the world was of my father's mind
Had I before known this young man his fon,
I fhould have giv'n him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he fhould thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle coufin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him;
My father's rough and envious difpofition

Sticks at my heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd
do keep your promifes in love

If you

But juftly, as you've here exceeded promise,
Your mistress fhall be happy.

Ref. Gentleman,

Wear this for me, one out of fuits with fortune,

That would give more, but that her hand lacks means.

Shall we go, coz?

[Giving him a chain from her neck,

Cel. Ay; fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you? my better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here ftands up If but a quintain, a meer lifeless block.

Rof. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes. I'll ask him what he would, Did you call, Sir?

Sir, you have wreftled well, and overthrown

More than your enemies.

Cel. Will you go, coz?

Rof. Have with you: fare you well. [Exe. Rof, and Cel. Orla. What paffion hangs thefe weights upon my tongue? I cannot fpeak to her, yet the urg'd conference."

f. Enter Le Beu.

Opoor Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or fomething weaker, mafters thee.
Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place albeit you have deferv'd
High commendation, true applaufe, and love;
Yet fuch is now the Duke's condition,

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That he mifconftrues all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is indeed
More fuits you to conceive, than me to speak of.

Orla. thank you, Sir; and pray you, tell me this
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
That here were at the wrestling?

Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
But yet indeed the fhorter is his daughter;,
The other's daughter to the banish'd Duke,
And here detained by her ufurping uncle
To keep his daughter company; whofe loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of fifters.
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke
Hath ta'en difpleasure 'gainft his gentle neice,,
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's fake;
And on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady
Will fuddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well;
Hereafter in a better world than this

I fhall defire more love and knowledge of you.

[Exit.

Orla. I reft much bounden to you: fare you well!

Thus muft I from the fmoke into the fmother;

From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother :

But, heav'nly Rofalind!

[Exit

SCENE VIII. Re-enter Celia and Rofalind. Cel. Why, coufin, why, Rofalind; Cupid have mercy, not a word!

Rof. Not one to throw at a dog.

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be caft away upon curs, throw fome of them at me; come, lame me with reafons.

Rof. Then there were two coufins laid up, when the one fhould be lam'd with reafons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Rof. No, fome of it is for my father's child. Oh, how

full of briers is this working-day-world!

Cel. They are but burs, coufin, thrown upon thee in ho

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