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 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. Prithee, 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 whipt 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.
Enter LE BEAU
ROSALIND. With his mouth full of news.
CELIA. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
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