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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.

       Wrastle.

      Ros. O 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.

      Orl. Yes, I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breath’d.

      Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?

      Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.

       Duke F.

      Bear him away. What is thy name, young man?

      Orl. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.

       Duke F.

      I would thou hadst been son to some man else:

      The world esteem’d thy father honorable,

      But I did find him still mine enemy.

      Thou shouldst have better pleas’d me with this deed

      Hadst thou descended from another house.

      But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth.

      I would thou hadst told me of another father.

       Exit Duke [with Train and Le Beau].

       Cel.

      Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

       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.

       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.

      If you do keep your promises in love

      But justly as you have exceeded all promise,

      Your mistress shall be happy.

       Ros.

      Gentleman,

       [Giving him a chain from her neck.]

      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.

       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 liveless block.

       Ros.

      He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes,

      I’ll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir?

      Sir, you have wrastled well, and overthrown

      More than your enemies.

       Cel.

      Will you go, coz?

       Ros.

      Have with you.—Fare you well.

       Exit [with Celia].

       Orl.

      What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?

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

       Enter Le Beau.

      O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown,

      Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.

       Le Beau.

      Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you

      To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv’d

      High commendation, true applause, and love,

      Yet such is now the Duke’s condition

      That he misconsters all that you have done.

      The Duke is humorous—what he is indeed

      More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.

       Orl.

      I thank you, sir; and pray you tell me this:

      Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,

      That here was at the wrastling?

       Le Beau.

      Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners,

      But yet indeed the [smaller] is his daughter.

      The other is daughter to the banish’d Duke,

      And here detain’d by her usurping uncle

      To keep his daughter company, whose loves

      Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.

      But I can tell you that of late this Duke

      Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece,

      Grounded upon no other argument

      But that the people praise her for her virtues,

      And pity her for her good father’s sake;

      And on my life his malice ’gainst the lady

      Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well.

      Hereafter, in a better world than this,

      I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

       Orl.

      I rest much bounden to you; fare you well.

       [Exit Le Beau.]

      Thus must I from the smoke into the smother,

      From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother.

      But heavenly Rosalind!

      

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