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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 monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear
Rose, be merry.
ROSALIND. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports.
Let me see; what think you of falling in love?
CELIA. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal; but love no man
in good earnest, nor no further in sport neither than with safety
of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.
ROSALIND. What shall be our sport, then?
CELIA. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her
wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
ROSALIND. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily
misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her
gifts to women.
CELIA. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes
honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very
ill-favouredly.
ROSALIND. Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's:
Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of
Nature.
Enter TOUCHSTONE
CELIA. No; when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by
Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to
flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off
the argument?
ROSALIND. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when
Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit.
CELIA. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but
Nature's, who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of
such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for
always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How
now, wit! Whither wander you?
TOUCHSTONE. Mistress, you must come away to your father.
CELIA. Were you made the messenger?
TOUCHSTONE. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.
ROSALIND. Where learned you that oath, fool?
TOUCHSTONE. 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 stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard
was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.
CELIA. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?
ROSALIND. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
TOUCHSTONE. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear
by your beards that I am a knave.
CELIA. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
TOUCHSTONE. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were. But if you
swear by that that not, you are not forsworn; 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 saw those pancackes or
that mustard.
CELIA. Prithee, who is't that thou mean'st?
TOUCHSTONE. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
CELIA. 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.
TOUCHSTONE. The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wise
men do foolishly.
CELIA. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that
fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have
makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.
Enter LE BEAU
ROSALIND. With his mouth full of news.
CELIA. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
ROSALIND. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.
CELIA. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour,
Monsieur Le Beau. What's the news?
LE BEAU. Fair Princess, you have lost much good sport.
CELIA. Sport! of what colour?
LE BEAU. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you?
ROSALIND. As wit and fortune will.
TOUCHSTONE. Or as the Destinies decrees.
CELIA. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
TOUCHSTONE. Nay, if I keep not my rank-
ROSALIND. Thou losest thy old smell.
LE BEAU. You amaze me, ladies. I would have told you of good
wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
ROSALIND. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.
LE BEAU. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your
ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and
here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.
CELIA. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
LE BEAU. There comes an old man and his three sons-
CELIA. I could match this beginning with an old tale.
LE BEAU. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.
ROSALIND. With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by
these presents'-
LE BEAU. 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.
ROSALIND. Alas!
TOUCHSTONE. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have
lost?
LE BEAU. Why, this that I speak of.
TOUCHSTONE. Thus men may grow wiser every day. It is the first time
that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.
CELIA. Or I, I promise thee.
ROSALIND. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in