Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were : but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or, if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable.

Enter Le Beau.

Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: What's the news? Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.

Cel. Sport? Of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you

?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.

Touch. Or as the destinies decree.

Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

Le Beau, I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.

Cel. Well, -the beginning, that is dead and

buried..

Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his three

sons,

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence;→→→→→

Ros. With bills on their necks,—Be it known unto all men by these presents,

Le Beau. The eldest 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!

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is the first time that ever I heard, breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken musick in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking?—Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?

Le Beau. 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.

[A Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.]

Enter Duke Frederick, Eustace, Louis, Charles, Orlando, Gentlemen, and Guards.

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.

Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le Beau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully.

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Duke F. 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 entreated: Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by.

[Takes his seat. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty.

Ros. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.

Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be mispriz'd: we will make it our suit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein 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 shall 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.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.

Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceiv'd in you!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you.

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

Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mock'd me before: but come your ways.

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.

Ros. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down.

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets,

while

Charles and Orlando wrestle.
Charles is thrown.

Duke F. No more, no more.

Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breath'd.

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ?

1

Touch. He cannot speak, my lord.

Duke F. Bear him away.

Charles is carried away by the Guards,
Touchstone going before them.

What is thy name, young man?

Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of sir

Rowland de Bois.

Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable;

But I did find him still mine enemy:

I would, thou hadst told me of another father.

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.]

Exeunt Duke Frederick, Eustace, Louis, Le

Orl. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son, His youngest son ;—and would not change that calling,

To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Ros. 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 son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him :
My father's rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv'd:
you do keep your promises in love,

If

But justly, as you have exceeded promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.

Ros. Gentleman,

1

[Giving him a chain from her neck.

Wear this for me; one of suits with fortune;

That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.— Shall we go, coz?

Cel. Ay-Fare you well, fair gentleman.

Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up. Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.

Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my for

tunes :

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?

Ros. Have with you :—Fare you well.

[Exeunt Celia, and Rosalind.

Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my

tongue ?

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.

poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;

Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.