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and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight for
Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge ?
Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you. swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn : no meal'was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he nover had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.
Cel. Prithee, who is't that thou meanest ?
Cel. (15) 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.
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
Cel. 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.
Ros. With his mouth full of news.
Enter LE BEAU.
Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
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. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence, with bills on their necks,
“Be it kuown unto all men by these presents,”—(17) 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.
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. But is there any else longs to feel(18) 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.
Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and
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?
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, (19) but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.
Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess' call for you.
Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty.(20)
Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler ?
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.
Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with our eyes, or knew yourself with our judgment, (21) the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.
Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward.
Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts: herein (22) I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial; wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall 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 supplied when I have made
Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.
Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.
heaven I be deceived in you !
well : pray
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 (23) 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 ?
[Charles is borne out.
What is thy name, young man? Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Roland de Bois.
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 : Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this 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 Roland's son,
Ros. My father lov’d Sir Roland as his soul,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
[Giving him a chain from her neck.
Ay.-Fare you well, fair gentleman.
Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes ;
Will you go, coz?
[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. 0 poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
Re-enter LE BEAU.
Orl. I thank you, sir : and, pray you, tell me this, -