Scene 2.-A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. (Enter Rosalind and Celia.) Celia. Here comes monsieur Le Beau. (Enter Le Beau and Touchstone.) Cel. Borjour, monsieur Le Beau: what's the news? Le Beau. What color, madam? How shall I answer you? Rosalind. As wit and fortune will. Touchstone. 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 sonsCel. 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 served 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 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 music 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 per. form it. Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming. Let us now stay and see it. (Flourish.-Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.) Duke Frederick. 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? Ros. Ay, my liege: so please you give us leave. 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. (Duke goes apart.) Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. Orla. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles, the wrestler? Orla. 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 misprized. 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 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 foiled, there is but one shamed, that was never gracious; if killed, 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 deceived 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? Orla. 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. Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked 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. (Charles and Orlando wrestle.) Ros. Ò, excellent young man ! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. (Charles is thrown.-Shout.) Duke F. No more, no more. Orla. Yes, I beseech your grace. I am not yet well breathed. Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. (Charles is borne out.) What is thy name, young man? Orla. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois. Duke F. Thou art a brave, a gallant youth; farewell! (Exil.) Cel. Sir, you have well deserved ; If you do keep your promises in love, Your mistress shall be happy. Ros. Gentleman, (giving him a chain from her neck,) Wear this for me-one out of suits with fortune. Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown More than your enemies. Farewell. (Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.) Orla. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? O, poor Orlando! thou art overthrown ; Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. (Exit.) XXIV. FROM THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.-Sheridan. SIR OLIVER-CHARLES-CARELESS-ROWLEY-MOSES. [NOTE.-Sir Oliver has just returned to his native land, after a long absence in the East Indies. His nephew, Charles, for whom he has cherished the warmest affection, but who is represented to him as a profligate, unprincipled young man, is unacquainted with the circumstance of his arrival. Sir Oliver determines, therefore, on the suggestion of Rowley, an old attached steward of Charles's deceased father, to assume the disguise of a broker, Mr. Premium, and, in company with Moses, a Jew-" who wash this very evening to bring him a gentlemans from the city, to advance him moneyshs, who doesh not know him"-to ascertain the facts for himself. The selection is full of wit, and presents a striking picture of some of the strange inconsistencies, follies, and virtues of the human character.] Scene 1.-Parlor in Charles' House. (Enter Charles, Moses, and Sir Oliver, as Premium.) Moses. This, sir, is Mr. Premium, a gentleman of the strictest honor and secrecy, who always performs what he undertakes; and, Mr. Premium, this is Charles. Pshaw, pshaw, hold your tongue, Moses. Sir, my friend Moses is a very honest fellow, but a little slow at expressing himself; he'll be an hour giving us our titles; and, Mr. Premium, the plain state of the matter is this: I am an extravagant young fellow, that wants to borrow money, for which I am blockhead enough to give fifty per cent., rather than not have it. You, I presume, are a prudent old fellow, who has got money to lend, and are rogue enough to take a hundred, if you can get it. Now, sir, you see we are acquainted at once, and may proceed to business without further ceremony. Sir Oliver. Exceeding frank, upon my word: I see you are not a man of many compliments. Char. O no, sir; plain dealing in business, I always think best. Sir O. Sir, I like you the better for it; however, you are mistaken in one thing. I have no money to lend. Char. No! Sir O. But believe I could have some of a friend; but then, he is a unconscionable dog, isn't he, Moses? And must sell stock to accommodate you, mustn't he, Moses? Mos. Yesh, indeed-you know I always speak the truth, and scorn to tell a lie. Char. So most people that speak truth generally do.But these are trifles, master Premium; I know money is not to be had without paying for it. Sir O. But what security can you give me-you have no land, I suppose? Char. Not a molehill, nor a twig but what's in beau-pots out at the windows. Sir O. Nor any stock, I presume? Char. Nothing but live stock, and that's only a few ponies and pointers. But pray, Mr. Premium, are you acquainted with any of my connections? Sir O. Why, to say truth, I am. Char. Why then, you must know that I have a fine old rich uncle in the East Indies, Sir Oliver Surface, from whom I have great expectations. Sir O. That you have a wealthy uncle, I have heard; but how far your expectations will turn out, is more, I believe, than you can tell. Char. O no; that I am a prodigious favorite, there can be no doubt he talks of leaving me every thing. Sir O. Indeed! This is the first I have heard of it. Char. Yes, yes, 'tis just so; Moses knows 'tis true; don't you, Moses? Mos. O yesh, I will shwear it. Sir O. (Aside.) Egad! they'll persuade me that I am at Bengal, presently. Char. Now, I propose if it's agreeable to you, to grant you a post obit on Sir Oliver's life; though at the same time the old gentleman has been so liberal to me, that I should be very sorry to hear any thing had happened him. Sir Q. Not more than I should, I assure you; but the bond you mention happens to be just the worst security you could offer me, for I might live to a hundred, and never recover the principal. Char. Yes, yes, you would; for the moment Sir Oliver dies, you would come on me for the money. |