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Cel. 'Tis true; for those, that she makes fair, she fcarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favoured.

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? tho' nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this Fool to cut off this 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 whetstone of the wits. How now, Wit, whither wander you?

Clo. Miftrefs, 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 fwore 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 mustard 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 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 this Knight fwearing by his hoM 4


nour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is that thou mean'ft?

Clo. (1) One, that old Frederick your father loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him enough; fpeak no more of him, you'll be whipt for taxation one of these days.

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

Cel. By my troth, thou fay'ft true; for fince the little wit that fools have was filenc'd, the little foolery that wife men have makes a great Show: here comes Monfieur Le Beu.

Enter Le Beu.

Rof. With his mouth full of news.

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

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

Cel. All the better, we-fhall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monfieur le Beu; what news?

Le Beu. Fair Princefs, you have loft much good Sport.

Cel. Sport; of what colour?

Le Beu. What colour, Madam? how fhall I answer


Rof. As wit and fortune will.

Clo. Or as the deftinies decree.

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

(1) Clo. One, that old Frederick your father loves.

Rof. My Father's Love is enough to honour him enough;] This Reply to the Clown is in all the Books plac'd to Rofalind; but Frederick was not her Father, but Celia's: I have therefore ventur'd to prefix the Name of Celia. There is no Countenance from any Paffage in the Play, or from the Dramatis Perfona, to imagine, that Both the Brother-Dukes were Namefakes; and One call'd the Old, and the Other the Younger Frederick; and, without fome fuch Authority, it would make Confufion to fuppofe it.


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Clo. Nay, if I keep not my rank, ·
Rof. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies; I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the fight of. Rof. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.

Le Beu. 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 Beu. There comes an old man and his three fons,

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

Rof. With bills on their necks: Be it known unto all men by these presents,

Le Beu. 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: so 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 Sport, Monfieur, that the ladies have loft?

Le Beu. Why this, that I fpeak of.

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

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

Rof. But (2) is there any elfe longs to fet this brokenmufick.

(2) Is there any elfe longs to fee this broken Musick in hisSides? This feems a ftupid Error in the Copies. They are talking here of Some who had their Ribs broke in Wrestling: and the Pleafantry of Rofalind's Repartee must confift in the Allufion She makes to compofing in Musick. It neceffarily folM S


mufick in his fides? is there yet another doats upon rib-breaking? fhall we fee this wrestling, Coufin?

Le Beu. 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 Beu. Even he, Madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks fuccefsfully.

Duke. How now, Daughter and Coufin; are you erept hither to fee the wrestling?

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

Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is fuch odds in the man: in pity of the challenger's youth, I would feign diffuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies, fee if you can move him.

Cel. Call him hither, good Monfieur Le Beu.
Duke. Do fo; I'll not be by.

[Duke goes apart. Le Beu. Monfieur the Challenger, the Princeffes call for you.

Órla. I attend them with all respect and duty.
Rof. Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the


Orla. No, fair Princefs; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the ftrength 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 your felf with your own eyes, or

lows therefore, that the Poet wrote. fet this broken Mufick in his Sides. Mr. Warburton. knew

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knew your felf with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprife. We pray you, for your own fake, to embrace your own fafety, and give over this attempt.

Rof. Do, young Sir; your reputation fhall not therefore be mifprised; we will make it our fuit to the Duke, that the wrestling might not go forward.

Orla. I befeech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confefs me much guilty, to deny fo fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my tryal, wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one fham'd that was never gracious; if kill'd, but one dead that is willing to be fo: I fhall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better fupplied when I have made it empty.

Rof. The little ftrength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine to eek out hers.

Rof. Fare you well; pray heav'n, I be deceiv'd in


Orla. Your heart's defires be with you!

Cha. Come, where is this young Gallant, that is fo defirous to lie with his mother earth?

Orla. Ready, Sir; but his Will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke. You fhall try but one Fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you fhall not entreat him to a fecond, that have fo mightily perfuaded him from a first.

Orla. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mockt me before; but come your ways.

Rof. Now Hercules be thy fpeed, young man! Cel. I would I were invifible, to catch the ftrong fellow by the leg! [they wrestle...

Rof. O excellent

young man !

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who fhould down.

[hout. Duk

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