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 still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; fo wouldst 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 estate, 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 shalt 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 Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

Rof. From henceforth I will, coz, and devife fports: let me fee; What think you of falling in love?

Cel. Marry, I pry'thee, do, to make fport withal: but love no man in good earneft; nor no further in fport neither, than with fafety of a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off again.

Rof. What fhall be our fport then?

Cel. Let us fit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

Rof. I would, we could do fo; for her benefits are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth moft mistake in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.

Rof. Nay, now thou goeft from fortune's office to nature's; fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature.

Enter Touchstone, a clown.

Cel. 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 fent in this fool to cut off the argument?

Rof. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit.

Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reafon of fuch goddeffes, hath fent this natural for our whetstone for always the dulnefs of the fool is the whetftone of the wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Clo. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Cel. Were you made the messenger ?

Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

Rof. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Clo. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and fwore by his honour the mustard was naught now, I'll ftand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the muftard was good; and yet was not the knight forfworn.

Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?

Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom.

Clo. Stand you both forth now: ftroke

both forth now: stroke your chins, and

fwear by your beards that I am a knave.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.

Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you fwear by that that is not, you are not forfworn: no more

was

was this knight, fwearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he faw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st?

Clo. One that old Ferdinand, your father, loves. Rof. My father's love is enough to honour him: Enough! fpeak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days.

r

Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wifely what wife men do foolishly."

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for fince the little wit, that fools have, was filenc'd, the little foolery, that wife men have, makes a great fhow. Here comes Monfieur Le Beau.

Enter Le Beau.

Rof. With his mouth full of news.

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Rof. Then fhall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monfieur le Beau; what's the news?

Le Beau. Fair princefs, you have loft much good fport. Cel. Sport? of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How fhall I answer you? Rof. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the deftinies decree.

Cel. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel.

Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank,——

Rof. Thou lofeft thy old smell.

Le Beau. You' amaze me, ladies: I would have told

? Frederick.

t

fools]-licenfed jefters.

9 taxation,]-flander, fcandal.

$ laid on with a trowel.]—an excellent random stroke.

amaze me,]—confound, put me out of my story.

you

you of good wrestling, which you have loft the fight of. Rof. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

Le Beau. 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, they are coming to perform it.

Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three fons,Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and prefence, with bills on their necks.

W

Rof. Be it known unto all men by these prefents,

Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wreftler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: fo he ferv'd the second, and fo the third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making fuch pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping.

Rof. Alas!

Clo. But what is the fport, monfieur, that the ladies have loft?

Le Beau. Why this, that I speak of.

Clo. Thus men may grow wifer every day! it is the first time that ever I heard, breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

x

Rof. But is there any elfe longs to fee this broken mufick in his fides? is there yet another dotes upon ribbreaking? Shall we fee this wrestling, coufin?

" with bills on their necks.]—forest bills on their shoulders. "Be it known unto all men by these presents,]—quibble upon bills, labels, and prefence, prefents.

X

to fee this broken mufick in his fides ?]-to take a fpecimen of― to fet, get-The ribs are like organ pipes, gradually fhortened.

Le Beau.

Le Beau. You muft, if you stay here: for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

Cel. Yonder, fure, they are coming: Let us now stay and fee it.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and attendants.

Duke. Come on: fince the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.

Rof. Is yonder the man?

Le Beau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks fuccefsfully. Duke. How now, daughter, and coufin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Rof. Ay, my liege, fo please you give us leave.

Luke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is fuch 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; fee if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monfieur Le Beau. Duke. Do fo; I'll not be by.

for

[Duke goes apart. Le Beau. Monfieur the challenger, the princeffes call

you.

Orla. I attend them with all refpect and duty.

Rof. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler? 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 fpirits are too bold for your years: You have feen cruel proof of this man's ftrength: if you faw yourself with your eyes, or knew

Y if you saw yourself with your eyes, &c.]-impartially, without self flattery.

yourself