_Touch._ 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 70 had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. _Cel._ Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest? _Touch._ One that old Frederick, your father, loves. _Cel._ My father’s love is enough to honour him: enough! 75 speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped for taxation one of these days. _Touch._ The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. _Cel._ By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little 80 wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. _Ros._ With his mouth full of news. _Cel._ Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. 85 _Ros._ Then shall we be news-crammed. _Cel._ 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. _Cel._ Sport! of what colour? 90 _Le Beau._ What colour, madam! how shall I answer you? _Ros._ As wit and fortune will. _Touch._ Or as the Destinies decrees. _Cel._ Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. _Touch._ Nay, if I keep not my rank,— 95 _Ros._ 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. _Ros._ Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. _Le Beau._ I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please 100 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 beginning, 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. 105 _Le Beau._ Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. _Ros._ With bills on their necks, ‘Be it known unto all men by these presents.’ _Le Beau._ The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, 110 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 115 weeping. _Ros._ Alas! _Touch._ But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? _Le Beau._ Why, this that I speak of. 120 _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.