« AnteriorContinuar »
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 monster : therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.
Cel. From henceforth will, coz, and devise Sports: let me see; What think you of falling in love? ; Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, 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 may'st in honour come off again.
Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. Let us sit and muck the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.
Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful blind wo. man doth most 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.
Ros. Nay, now thon 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 fortuve 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
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Enter Le Beau,
Ros. With his mouth full of news. Cel. Which he will put on us, as
this natural for our whetstone: for always the dull. ness 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
Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.
Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?
Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his hom pour they were good pancakes, and swore bg 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?
Ros. Ay, marry; now upmuzzle 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 honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes of that mustard.
Cel. Priythee, 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. for taxation, one of these days.
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolislily,
Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm
Cel. All the better; we shall bet ketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beas news?
Le Beau. Fair princess, you hao good sport.
Cel. Of what colour!
Le Beau. What colour, madam?
Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Le Beau. You amaze me, lad
forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his
Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whipp'd
Ros. Yet tell us the manner
Le Beau. I will tell you the please your ladyships, you may best is yet to do; and here, are coming to perform it.
Cel. Well, the beginniug, buried.
Le Beau. There comes an o.
Ce. I could match this be
Ros. With bills on their nec to all men by these presents.
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.
* Perplex, com
for along the
Enter Le Beau.
Ros. With his mouth full of news.
Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.
Cel. All the better; we shall be the more mar. ketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: What's the news?
Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
Cel. Of what colour ?
Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you?
Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Le Beau. You amaze* me, ladies : I would have
Le Bear. 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 beginniug, 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 un• to all men by these presents.
* Perplex, confuse.
but he will not be entre
Cel. Call him hither,
Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in & 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 see this broken musick in his sides ? is there yet
another dotes upon rib-breaking ?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?
Le Beau. You must, if you stay bere; 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 see it.
Le Beau. Monsieur !
Ros. Young man, ha
Orl. No, fair prince
Cel. Young gentler
Ros. Do, young
Orl. I beseech
Ros. The little
Cel. And mine,
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 ?
Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks success. fully.
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,
but he will not be entreated: Speak to him, ladies ;
Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
[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, hare you challenged Charles the wrestler?
Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but is, 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 your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, 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 miglit not go forward.
Ori. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein 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 it empty.
Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.
Cel. And mine, to eke out hors.