SCENE V.
Enter Le Beu.
Ros.
With his mouth full of news.
Cel.
Which he will put on us, as pidgeons feed
their young.
Ros.
Then shall we be news-cram'd.
Cel.
All the better, we shall be the more marketable.
Bon jour, Monsieur le Beu; what news?
Le Beu.
Fair Princess, you have lost much good
Sport.
Cel.
Sport; of what colour?
Le Beu.
What colour, Madam? how shall I answer
you?
Ros.
As wit and fortune will.
Clo.
Or as the destinies decree.
Cel.
Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
Clo.
Nay, if I keep not my rank,—
Ros.
Thou losest thy old smell.
Le Beu.
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.
-- 301 --
Le Beu.
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.
Cel.
Well, the beginning that is dead and buried.
Le Beu.
There comes an old man and his three
sons,—
Cel.
I could match this beginning with an old tale.
Le Beu.
Three proper young men, of excellent
growth and presence;—
7 noteRos.
With bills on their necks.
Clo.
Be it known unto all men by these presents—
Le Beu.
The eldest of the three wrestled with
Charles 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 serv'd 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 weeping.
Ros.
Alas!
Clo.
But what is the Sport, Monsieur, that the ladies
have lost?
Le Beu.
Why this, that I speak of.
Clo.
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.
-- 302 --
Ros.
But 8 noteis there any else longs to set this broken
musick in his sides? is there yet another doats upon
rib-breaking? shall we see this wrestling, Cousin?
Le Beu.
You must if you stay here, for here is the
place appointed for the wrestling; and they are ready
to perform it.
Cel.
Yonder, sure, they are coming; let us now
stay and see it.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
