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,--