own
dependance on the false usurper, made Rosalind melancholy, Celia's
whole care was to comfort and console her.

One day, when Celia was talking in her usual kind manner to Rosalind,
saying, "I pray you, Rosalind, my sweet cousin, be merry," a messenger
entered from the duke, to tell them that if they wished to see a
wrestling match, which was just going to begin, they must come
instantly to the court before the palace; and Celia, thinking it would
amuse Rosalind, agreed to go and see it.

In those times wrestling, which is only practised now by country
clowns, was a favourite sport even in the courts of princes, and
before fair ladies and princesses. To this wrestling-match therefore
Celia and Rosalind went. They found that it was likely to prove a
very tragical sight; for a large and powerful man, who had long been
practised in the art of wrestling, and had slain many men in contests
of this kind, was just going to wrestle with a very young man, who,
from his extreme youth and inexperience in the art, the beholders all
thought would certainly be killed.

When the duke saw Celia and Rosalind, he said, "How now, daughter and
niece, are you crept hither to see the wrestling? You will take little
delight in it, there is such odds in the men: in pity to this young
roan, I would wish to persuade him from wrestling. Speak to him,
ladies, and see if you can move him."

The ladies were well pleased to perform this humane office, and first
Celia entreated the young stranger that he would desist from the
attempt; and then Rosalind spoke so kindly to him, and with such
feeling consideration for the danger he was about to undergo, that
instead of being persuaded by her gentle words to forego his purpose,
all his thoughts were bent to distinguish himself by his courage in
this lovely lady's eyes. He refused the request of Celia and Rosalind
in such graceful and modest words, that they felt still more concern
for him; he concluded his refusal with saying, "I am sorry to deny
such fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and
gentle wishes go with me to my trial, wherein if I be conquered, there
is one shamed that was never gracious; if I am killed, there is one
dead that is willing to die: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I
have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing;
for I only fill up a place in the world which may be better supplied
when I have made it empty."

And now the w