feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the fomething, that nature gave me, his countenance feems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars te the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which, I think, is within me, begins to mutiny againft this fervitude. I will no longer endure it, tho' yerl know no wife remedy how to avoid it.

Enter Oliver.

Adam. Yonder comes my mafter, your brother. Orla. Go apart, Adam, and thou fhalt hear how he will shake me up.

Oli. Now, Sir, what make you here?

Orla. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, Sir?

Orla. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with

idleness.

Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employ'd, and be naught awhile. (2)

Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat hulks with them? what prodigal's portion have I spent, that I fhould come to fuch penury ?

Oli. Know you where

you are, Sir?

Orla. O, Sir, very well; here in your orchard.

(2) be better employ'd, and be naught awhile.] i. e. be better employ'd in my opinion, in being, and doing, nothing. Your idlenes, as you call it, may be an exercife, by which you may make a figure, and endear yourself to the world and I had rather, you were a contemptible cypher. The poet feems to me to have that trite proverbial Sentiment in his eye, quoted from Attilius by the younger Pliny and others;

Statius eft otiofum elle quam nihil agere.

But Oliver, in the perverfeness of his difpofition, would reverse the doctrine of the proverb.

Orla. Ay, better than he, I am before, knows me. I know, you are my eldest brother; and in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me; the courtefy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first born; but the fame tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confefs your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. Oli. What, boy!

Orla. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orla. I am no villain: I am the youngest fon of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain, that fays, fuch a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, 'till this other had pull'd out thy tongue for faying fo; thou haft rail'd on thyself.

Adam. Sweet malters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

Orla. I will not, 'till I pleafe: you fhall hear me. My father charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have train'd me up like a peafant, obfeuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities; the spirit of my father grows ftrong in me, and I wilt no longer endure it: therefore allow me fuch exercifes as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by teftament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is fpent? well, Sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you fhall have fome part of your will. I pray you, leave me.

Orla. I will no further offend you, than becomes me for my good.

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

Adam. Is old dog my reward? moft true, I have loft

my teeth in your fervice. God be with my old master, he would not have fpoke fuch a word.

[Exe. Orlando and Adam. Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? I will phyfick your ranknefs, and yet give no thousand crowns neither, Holla, Dennis!

Enter Dennis..

Den. Calls your worship?

Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wreftler, here to fpeak with me?

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes accefs to you.

-'twill be a good way; and to

Oli. Call him in; morrow the wrestling is.

Enter Charles.

Char. Good-morrow to your worship.

Oli. Good Monfieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court?`

Char. There's no news at the court, Sir, but the old news; that is, the old Duke is banifh'd by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loving Lords have put themfelves into voluntary exile with him; whofe lands and revenues enrich the new Duke, there fore he gives them good leave to wander.

Oli. Can you tell, if Rofalind, the Duke's daughter, be banish'd with her father?

Char. O, no; for the Duke's daughter her coufin fo loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that he would have followed her exile, or have died to ftay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two Ladies loved, as they do.

Oli. Where will the old Duke live?

Cha. They fay, he is already in the foreft of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they fay, many

young

young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelefly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke ?

Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, fecretly to underfland, that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in difguis'd against me to try a fall; to-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he, that efcapes me without fome broken limb, fhall acquit him well.. Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be both to foil him; as I muft for mine own honour, if he come in; therefore out of love my to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook fuch difgrace well as he fhall run into; in that. it is a thing of his own fearch and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, wick, thou fhalt find, I will moft kindly requite. I had myfelf notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by under-hand means laboured to diffuade him from it; but he is refölute. I tell thee, Charles, he is the ftubborneft young fellow of France; full of ambition,an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore ufe thy difcretion; I had as lief. thou didst break his neck, as his finger. And thou wert beft look to't; for if thou doft him any flight. difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himfelf on thee, he will practife against thee by poifon; entrapthee by fome treacherous device; and never leave thee 'till he hath ta'en thy life by fome indire& means or other; for I affure thee, (and almoft with tears I fpeak it) there is not one fo young and fo villanous this day Hiving. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Cha. I am heartily glad, I came hither to you: if he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment; if ever

he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more and fo, God keep your worship.

[Exit. Oli. Farewel, good Charles. Now will I ftir this gamefter: I hope, I fhall fee an end of him; for my foul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never fchool'd, and yet learned; full of noble device, of all forts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, fo much in the heart of the world, and efpecially of my own people who beft know him, that I am altogether mifprifed. But it fhall not be fo, long; this wrestler fhall clear all; nothing remains, but that Ikindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about.[Exit,

SCENE changes to an Open Walk, before the Duke's Palace.

Cel. I

Enter Rofalind and Celia,

Pray thee, Rofalind, fweet my coz, be merry. Ref. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am miftrefs of; and would you yet I were merrier? unless. you could teach me to forget a banish'd father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Herein, I fee, thou lov'ft me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle the Duke, my father, fo thou hadst been ftill with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo would't thou, if the truth of thy love to me were fo righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee.

Rof. Well, I will forget the condition of my eftate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou fhalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monfter: therefore, my fweet Rofe my dear Rofe, be merry

Ref