mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth moft mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. 'Tis true; for those that fhe makes fair, fhe scarce makes honeft; 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 fhe 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. 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 swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and (wore 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 swearing by his honour, for he never had any; any; or, if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he faw thofe pancakes or that mustard. Cel. Pr'ythee, who is that thou mean'ft? Clo. 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 thefe 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 filenced, the little foolery that wife men have makes a great show: here comes Monfieur Le Beu. Rof. With his mouth full of news. Gel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons 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 fport. Cel. Sport!-of what colour? Le Beu. What colour, Madam? How fhall I answer you? Ref. As wit and fortune will, Clo. Or as the deftinies decree. Cel. Well faid; that was laid on with a trowel. Rof. Thou lofeft thy old smell. Le Beu. You amaze me, ladies; I would have told of good wrestling, which you have loft the fight of. Ref. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. you Le Beu. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your Ladyfhips, you may fee the end, for the beft is yet. to do; and here where you are, they are coming to perform it. Gel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried. Le Beu. There came an old man and his three fons, Gel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beu. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and prefence ; B Rof Rof. With bills on their necks: Be it known unto all men by thefe prefents. Le Beu. The eldeft of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's wreftler; which Charles in a moment threw, and broke three of his ribs; that there is little hope of life in him fo he ferved the fecond, 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 fport, 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 sport for ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Rof. But is there any elfe longs to fet this broken mufic in his fides? Is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we fee this wreftling, coufin? Le Beu. You muft, if you ftay 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, 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. Gel. Alas, he is too young; yet he looks fuccefsfully. Luke. How now, daughter and coufin; are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Rof. Ay, my liege, fo please you give us leave. Duke. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there are 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 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 wrestler ? Orla. No, fair Princess: 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 yourself with your own eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counfel you to a more equal enterprise. 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 trial, wherein if I be foil'd, there is but one sham'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 fupply'd when I have made it empty. Rof. The little ftrength that I have, I would it were with you. Cel. And mine to eke out hers. Rof. Fare you well; pray heav'n I be deceiv'd in you. 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 modeft working. Duke. You fhall try but one fall. Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you fhall not entreat B 2 him him to a fecond, that have so mightily perfuaded him from a firft. 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, Duke. No more, no more. [Shout. [Charles is thrown. Orla. Yes, I beseech your Grace; I am not yet well breathed. Duke. How doft thou, Charles? Le Beu. He cannot fpeak, my Lord. Duke. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? Orla. Orlando, my liege, the younger fon of Sir Rowland de Boys. Duke I wou'd, thou hadft been fon to fome man else! The world efteem'd thy father honourable, But I did find him ftill mine enemy: Thou fhouldft have better pleas'd me with this deed, But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth; I would, thou hadft, told me of another father. [Exit Duke, with his train, Manent CELIA, ROSALIND, ORLANDO. Rof. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his foul, Cel. Gentle coufin, Let us go thank him and encourage him; Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deferv'd: But |