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

Ros. 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.

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 sent in this fool to cut off the argument?

Ros. 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 reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dullness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you?

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel. Were you made the messenger?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Touch. Or as the destinies decree.
Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-

Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beau. You amaze2 me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.

Ros. 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.

Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead. and buried. Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his three sons,

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence;

Ros. 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 served the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful

Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to dole over them, that all the beholders take his part come for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. 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.

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

with weeping.
Ros. Alas!

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. 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.

Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broke Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. rib-breaking ?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they but if you swear by that that is not, you are not are ready to perform it. forsworn no more was this knight, swearing by Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he stay and see it. had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st? Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him.Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whipp'd for taxation,' one of these days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st 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.

< Ros. With his mouth full of news.

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

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be
entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
Ros. Is yonder the man?
Le Beau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully.

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling?

Ros. Ay, my liege? so please you give us leave. Duke F. 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,

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed but he will not be entreated: Speak to him, ladies: their young.

Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. 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.

Cel. Of what colour?

see if you can move him.

Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by.

[Duke goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty.
Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I the wrestler? answer you?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

Scene III.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold I should have given him tears unto entreaties, for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this Ere he should thus have ventur'd. man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes,

Cel.

Gentle cousin,

or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear Let us go thank him, and encourage him:
of your adventure would counsel you to a more My father's rough and envious disposition
equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own Sticks me at heart.-Sir, you have well deserv'd:
sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over If you do keep your promises in love,
But justly, as you have exceeded promise,
this attempt.
Your mistress shall be happy.

Ros.

Gentleman,

Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprized; we will make it our suit to [Giving him a chain from her neck. the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune;" hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, That could give more, but that her hand lacks

to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But

means.

let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me Shall we go, coz? Cel. Ay:-Fare you well, fair gentleman to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better par! one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my Are all thrown down; and that which here stand friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with r the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would were with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.

it

Ros. Fare you well.-Pray heaven, I be deceived in you!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you!

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth?

Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways. Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [Charles and Orlando wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man!

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [Charles is thrown. Shout. Duke F. No more, no more.

Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed.

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?

Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away. [Charles is borne out.]
What is thy name young man?

Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son sir Rowland de Bois.

of

Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some
man else.

The world esteem'd thy father honourable,
But I did find him still mine enemy:

fortunes:

[u

I'll ask him what he would:-Did you call, sir?
Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown
More than your enemies.

I

Cel.

Will you go, coz?
Ros. Have with you:-Fare you well.
[Exeunt Rosalind and C
Orl. What passion hangs these weights t
my tongue?

cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.
Re-enter Le Beau.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown;
Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.

Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place: Albeit, you have deserv'd
High commendation, true applause, and love;
Yet such is now the duke's condition,4
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous: what he is, indeed,
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak of.
Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this
Which of the two was daughter of the duke
That here was at the wrestling?

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by

manners;

But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter:
The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,
And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you, that of late this duke
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece;
Grounded upon no other argument,

But that the people praise her for her virtues,
And pity her for her good father's sake;
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady

Thou should'st have better pleas'd me with this Will suddenly break forth.-Sir, fare you well;

deed,

Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth;
I would, thou hadst told me of another father.

[Exeunt Duke Fred. train, and Le Beau. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Orl. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's son, His youngest son;-and would not change that calling,

To be adopted heir to Frederick.

Ros. My father lov'd sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Had I before known this young man his son,

Appellation. (2) Turned out of her service. (3) object to dart at in martial exercises.

away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come,| lame me with reasons.

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;2 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when I was too young that time to value her, the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any.

Cel. But is all this for your father?

Ros. No, some of it for my child's father: O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart.

Cel. Hem them away.

Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him.

Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself.

But now I know her if she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her
smoothness,

Her very silence, and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more
virtuous,

When she is gone: then open not thy lips;
Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my
liege;

I

Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in
time, in despite of a fall.-But, turning these jests
out of service, let us talk in good earnest: Is it pos-
sible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so
strong a liking with old sir Rowland's youngest son? If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour,
Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should
love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should
hate him, for my father hated his father dearly;
yet I hate not Orlando.

cannot live out of her company.
Duke F. You are a fool:-You, niece, provide
yourself;

Ros. No, 'faith, hate him not, for my sake.
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love
him, because I do :-Look, here comes the duke.
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.

Enter Duke Frederick, with lords.
Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your safest
haste,

And get you from our court.
Ros.

Me, uncle?
You, cousin;

Duke F.
Within these ten days if that thou be'st found
So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros.
I do beseech your grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence,

Or have acquaintance with mine own desires;
If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,
(As I do trust I am not,) then, dear uncle,
Never, so much as in a thought unborn,
Did I offend your highness.

Duke F.

Thus do all traitors;

If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:-
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not.
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor;
Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, there's
enough.

Ros. So was I, when your highness took his
dukedom;

So was I, when your highness banish'd him;
Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor:
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much,
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

I

[Exeunt Duke Frederick and lords.
Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am.
Ros. I have more cause.
Cel.
Thou hast not, cousin;
Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros.

That he hath not.
Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.

Therefore devise with me, how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel.

To seek my uncle.
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,"
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far?
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber3 smirch my face;
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.

Ros.
Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will,)
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside;'
As many other mannish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art a
man?

Ros. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own
page,

And therefore look you call me, Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd?

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state;

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, No longer Celia, but Aliena. Else had she with her father rang'd along.

(1) Inveterately. (2) Compassion. (3) A dusky, yellow-coloured earth.

Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court?