As You Like It

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 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 dulness 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 is 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 pancakes or that mustard. Celia Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest? 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 whipped 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. 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-crammed. Celia All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Enter Le Beau. 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 decree. 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 You 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 served 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 his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? Le Beau You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. Celia Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants. Duke Frederick Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Rosalind Is yonder the man? Le Beau Even he, madam. Celia Alas, he