Le Beu. Even he, Madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks fuccessfully,
Duke. How now, Daughter and Coufin;

Are you crept hither to fee the Wrestling?

Rof. Ay, my Liege, so please you give us leave.

Duke. You will take little Delight in it, I can tell you, there is fuch odds in the Man: In Pity of the Challenger's Youth, I would feign diffuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, Ladies, fee if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monfieur Le Beu.

Duke. Do fo; I'll not be by.

Le Bex. Monfieur the Challenger, the Princess calls for you.

Orla. I attend her with all Respect and Duty.

Rof. Young Man, have you challeng'd Charles the Wrestler?

Orla. No, fair Princess; he is the General Challenger, I come but 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 feen cruel Proof of this Man's Strength. If you faw your felf with your own Eyes, or knew your felf with your Judgment, the fear of your Adventure would counfel you to a more equal Enterprife. We pray you for your own Sake to embrace your own Safety, and give over this Attempt.

Rof. Do, young Sir, your Reputation fhall not therefore be mifprifed; we will make it our Suit to the Duke, that the Wrestling might not go forward.

Orla. I befeech you punish me not with your hard Thoughts, wherein I confefs me much guilty to deny fo 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 fham'd that was never Gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be fo: I fhall do my Friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the 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 Strength I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine to eek out hers.

Ref.

you.

Rof. Fare you well; pray Heav'n I be deceiv'd in you. Cel. Your Heart's Defires be with Char. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is fo de firous to lye with his Mother Earth?

Orla. Ready Sir, but his Will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke. You fhall try but one Fall.

Char. No, I warrant your Grace you fhall not entreat him to a fecond, that have fo mightily perfuaded him from a firft.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mockt before; but come your ways.

Ref. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young Man.

Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the ftrong Fellow by the Leg. [They Wrestle.

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 do'ft thou, Charles?

Le Beu. He cannot speak, my Lord.
Duke. Bear him away.

What is thy Name, young Man?

Orla. Orlando, my Liege, the youngest Son of Sir Row land de Boys.

Duke. I would thou hadst been Son to fome Man elfe; The World efteem'd thy Father honourable,

But I did find him ftill mine Enemy:

Thou should't 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 hadst told me of another Father.

[Exit Duke. Cel. Were I my Father, Coz, would I do this? Orla. 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.

Rof. My Father lov'd Sir Rowland as his Sou', 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,
E'er he fhould thus have ventur'd.

Cel. Gentle Coufin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him;
My Father's rough and envious Disposition
Sticks me at Heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd,
If you do keep your Promises in Love,

But justly as you have exceeded all in Promife,
Your Mistress fhall be happy.

Rof. Gentleman,

Wear this for me; one out 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.

Orla. Can I not fay, I thank you? My better Parts Are all thrown down, and that which here ftands up Is but a Quintine, a more liveless 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. [Ex. Rof. and Cel. Orla. What Paffion hangs thefe Weights upon my Tongue I cannot speak to her; yet fhe urg'd Conference.

Enter Le Beu,

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown

Or Charles, or fomething weaker mafters thee.
Le Ben. 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,
That he mifconfters all that you have done.
The Duke is humorous; what he is indeed
More fuits you to conceive, than me to fpeak of.
Orla. I thank you Sir, and pray you tell me this,
Which of these two was Daughter to the Duke,
That here was at the Wrestling?

Le Bea, Neither his Daughter, if we judge by Manners, But yet indeed the taller is his Daughter;

The other is Daughter to the banish'd Duke,

And

1

And here detain'd by her ufurping Uncle
To keep his Daughter Company, whofe Loves
Are dearer than the natural Bond of Sifters:
But I can tell you, that of late this Duke

Hath ta'en Displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neice,
Grounded upon no other Argument,

But that the People praife her for her Virtues,
And pity her for her old Father's fake;
And on my Life his Malice 'gainft the Lady
Will fuddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well,
Hereafter in a better World than this,

I shall defire more Love and Knowledge of you.

[Exit.

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

Thus may I from the Smoke into the Smother;

From Tyrant Duke, unto a Tyrant Brother:

[Exit.

But heav'nly Rofalind!

SCENE III.

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 Reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your Father?

Rof. No, fome of it is for my Child's Father. Oh how full of Briers is this working-Day-world.

Cel. They are but Burs, Coufin, thrown upon thee in Holiday Foolery; if we walk not in the troden Paths, our very Petticoats will catch them.

Rof. I could shake them off my Coat; thefe Burs are in

my Heart.

處

Cel. Hem them away.

Rof. I would try, if I could cry Hem, and have him.
Cel. Come, come, wreftle with thy Affections.

Zof.

Rof. O they take the Part of a better Wrestler than my felf.

Cel. O, a good Wish upon you; you will try in time in defpight of a Fall; but turning thefe Jfts out of Service, let us talk in good earneft: Is it poffible on fuch a fudden you fhould fall into fo ftrange a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest Son?

Rof. The Duke my Father lov'd his Father dearly.

Cel. Doth it therefore enfue that you should love his Son
dearly? By this kind of Chase I should hate him, for my
Father hated his Father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
Rof. No Faith, hate him not for my Sake.

Cel. Why should I not? Doth not he deferve well?
Enter Duke with Lords.

Rof. Let me love him for that, and do you love him,
Because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.

Cel. With his Eyes full of Anger.

Duke. Miftrefs, difpatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our Court.

Rof. Me, Uncle!

Duke. You, Coufin.

Within thefe ten Days if that thou bee'st found
So near our publick Court as twenty Miles,
Thou dieft for it.

Rof. I do befeech your Grace

Let me the Knowledge of my Fault bear with me:
If with my felf I hold Intelligence,

Or have Acquaintance with my own Defires,
If that I do not dream, or be not frantick,
As I do truft I am not, then dear Uncle,
Never fo much as in a Thought unborn
Did I offend your Highness.

Duke. Thus do all Traitors,

If their Purgation did confift in Words,
They are as innocent as Grace it self:
Let it fuffice thee that I trust thee not.

Rof. Yet your Miftruft can not make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

Duke. Thou art thy Father's Daughter, there's enough. Rof. So was I when your Highness took his Dukedom, So was I when your Highnefs banish'd him;

VOL. II.

L

Treafon