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Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ?
Clo. Of a certain Knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: · Now I'll fland to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good, and yet was not the Knight forsworn.
Cel. How prove you that in the great heap of your knowledge?
Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom.
Cló. Stand you both forth now? stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a krave.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if
you swear by That that is not, you are not forfworn; 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 faw those pancakes or that mustard.
Cel. Pr'ythee, who is that thou mean'st?
father loves. Ros. My father's love is enough to honour him enough; speak no more of him, you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days.
Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishły,
Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true; for since the little wit that fools have was silenc'd, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great Show: here comes Monsieur Le Beu.
ITH his mouth full of news.
Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young: Rof. Then shall we be news-cram'd.
Cel. All the better, we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monheur le Beu ; what news ?
Le Beu. Fair Princess, you have lost much good Sport.
Cel. Sport; of what colour?
Le Beu, What colour, Madam ? how shall I anfwer you?
Rof. As wit and fortune will. !:
Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies; I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the fight of.
Rof. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling:
Le Beu. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your Ladyships, you may fee the end, for the best is yet to do; and here where you are, thy are coming to perform it..
Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.
Le Beu. There comes an old man and his three fons,
Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.
Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence ;
Roj. With bills on their necks.
Le Beu. 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.
Clo. But what is the Sport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft ?
Le Beu. Why this, that I speak of.
Clo. 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. :
Ref. But is there any else longs to set this broken music in his sides? is there yet another doats upon rib-breaking ? shall we see this wrestling, Cousin?
Le Beu. 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.
SCE N E VI. Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Charles, and Attendants.
Rof. Is yonder the man?
Cel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks successfully.
Duke. How now, Daughter and Cousin ; are you crept hither to see the wrestling ?
Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.
Duke. 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 Beu.
Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesses call for you. Orla. I attend them with all respect and duty.
Rof. Rof. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wreftler ?
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 our eyes, or knew yourself with our judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.
Rof. Do, young Sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised; 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 confefs 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 killid, 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 place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty:
Rof. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.
Cel. A’nd mine to eck out hers.
! * If you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, ] The Sense requires that we should read, our eyes, and our judgment. The Argument is, Your Spirits are too bold, and therefore your Judgment deceives you; but did you see and know yourself with our more impartial Judgment you would forbear.
Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is fo desirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orla. Ready, Sir; but his Will hath in it a more modest working
Duke. You shall try but one Fall.
Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily perfuaded him from a first. Orla. You mean to mock me after; you
should not have mockt me before ; but come your ways.
Rof. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg !
(They wreftlé. Rof. Ó excellent young man ! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine
I who should down.
[Shout. Duke. No more, no more.
Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed.
Duke. How dost thou, Charles ?
Lord. Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ?
Orla. Orlando, my liege, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. Duke. I would, thou hadst been son to some man
else! The world esteem'd thy Father honourable, But I did find him still minc enemy : Thou should'st 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 hadft told me of another father.
Exit Duke, with his train.