Act I, Scene ii:
A Lawn before the DUKE'S Palace.

[Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.]

CELIA:

I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.

ROSALIND:

Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would

you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a

banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any

extraordinary pleasure.

CELIA:

Herein I see thou lov'st me not with the full weight that I

love thee; if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy

uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me,

I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so

wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously

tempered as mine is to thee.

ROSALIND:

Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in

yours.

CELIA:

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.

ROSALIND:

From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports: let me see; what

think you of falling in love?

CELIA:

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 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.

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?

[Enter TOUCHSTONE.]

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 dullness 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 pancackes or that

mustard.

CELIA:

Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st?

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 whipp'd 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 decrees.

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:

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.

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, with

bills on their necks,—

ROSALIND:

'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, andAttendants.]

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 is too young: yet he looks successfully.

DUKE FREDERICK:

How now, daughter and cousin? are you crept hither to see the

wrestling?

ROSALIND:

Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave.

DUKE FREDERICK:

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; see if you can move him.

CELIA:

Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.

DUKE FREDERICK:

Do so; I'll not be by.

[DUKE FREDERICK goes apart.]

LE BEAU:

Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.

ORLANDO:

I attend them with all respect and duty.

ROSALIND:

Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

ORLANDO:

No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come

but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

CELIA:

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 judgment,

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.

ROSALIND:

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.

ORLANDO:

I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts: wherein I

confess me much guilty to deny so fair and excellent ladies

anything. 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.

ROSALIND:

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

CELIA:

And mine to eke out hers.

ROSALIND:

Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you!

CELIA:

Your heart's desires be with you.

CHARLES:

Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous

to lie with his mother earth?

ORLANDO:

Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

DUKE FREDERICK:

You shall try but one fall.

CHARLES:

No; I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to

a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

ORLANDO:

You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before;

but come your ways.

ROSALIND:

Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man!

CELIA:

I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg.

[CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle.]

ROSALIND:

O excellent young man!

CELIA:

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

[CHARLES is thrown. Shout.]

DUKE FREDERICK:

No more, no more.

ORLANDO:

Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed.

DUKE FREDERICK:

How dost thou, Charles?

LE BEAU:

He cannot speak, my lord.

DUKE FREDERICK:

Bear him away.

[CHARLES is borne out.]

What is thy name, young man?

ORLANDO:

Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois.

DUKE FREDERICK:

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 FREDERICK, Train, and LE BEAU.]

CELIA:

Were I my father, coz, would I do this?

ORLANDO:

I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son,

His youngest son;—and would not change that calling

To be adopted heir to Frederick.

ROSALIND:

My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,

And all the world was of my father's mind:

Had I before known this young man his son,

I should have given him tears unto entreaties

Ere he should thus have ventur'd.

CELIA:

Gentle cousin,

Let us go thank him, and encourage him:

My father's rough and envious disposition

Sticks me at heart.—Sir, you have well deserv'd:

If you do keep your promises in love

But justly, as you have exceeded promise,

Your mistress shall be happy.

ROSALIND:

Gentleman,

[Giving him a chain from her neck.]

Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune,

That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.—

Shall we go, coz?

CELIA:

Ay.—Fare you well, fair gentleman.

ORLANDO:

Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts

Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up

Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.

ROSALIND:

He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes:

I'll ask him what he would.—Did you call, sir?—

Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown

More than your enemies.

CELIA:

Will you go, coz?

ROSALIND:

Have with you.—Fare you well.

[Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA.]

ORLANDO:

What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?

I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference.

O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown:

Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee.

[Re-enter LE BEAU.]

LE BEAU:

Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you

To leave this place. Albeit you have deserv'd

High commendation, true applause, and love,

Yet such is now the duke's condition,

That he misconstrues all that you have done.

The Duke is humorous; what he is, indeed,

More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.

ORLANDO:

I thank you, sir: and pray you tell me this;

Which of the two was daughter of the duke

That here was at the wrestling?

LE BEAU:

Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;

But yet, indeed, the smaller is his daughter:

The other is daughter to the banish'd duke,

And here detain'd by her usurping uncle,

To keep his daughter company; whose loves

Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.

But I can tell you that of late this duke

Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece,

Grounded upon no other argument

But that the people praise her for her virtues

And pity her for her good father's sake;

And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady

Will suddenly break forth.—Sir, fare you well!

Hereafter, in a better world than this,

I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

ORLANDO:

I rest much bounden to you: fare you well!

[Exit LE BEAU.]

Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;

From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother:—

But heavenly Rosalind!

[Exit.]