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 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