CELIA.
All the better; we shall be the more marketable.
Bonjour, 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.