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ou shall not know by what strange accident chanced on this letter.


I am dumb.

Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
nless he live until he be a man.

Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow:
Then I am absent, then lie with my wife.

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; or here I read for certain that my ships

re safely come to road.


How now, Lorenzo! y clerk has some good comforts too for you. Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. here do I give to you and Jessica, rom the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, fter his death, of all he dies possess'd of. Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way f starved people.


It is almost morning, nd yet I am sure you are not satisfied f these events at full. Let us go in; nd charge us there upon inter'gatories, nd we will answer all things faithfully. Gra. Let it be so: the first inter❜gatory "hat my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or go to bed now, being two hours to-day. But were the day come, I should wish it dark, That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

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CELLA, daughter to Frederick.
PHEBE, a shepherdess.
AUDREY, a country wench.

Lords, pages, and attendants, &c.

SCENE: Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the Forest of Arden.


SCENE I. Orchard of OLIVER's house.


Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion he bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays ine here at home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his counte


nance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his inds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in im lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servi ude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

Adam, Yonder comes my master, your brother.

Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. 30


Oli. Now, sir! what make you here?

Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, sir?

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to uch penury?

Oli. Know you where you are, sir?

Orl. O, sir, very well. here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, sir?

Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is mearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Oh. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.


Orl. I will not, till I please you shall hear me. father charged you in his will to give me good education:

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you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

Adam. Is "old dog" my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word.

[Exeunt Orlando and Adam. Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis !


Den. Calls your worship?

Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?

Den. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you.

Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] "Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.


Cha. Good morrow to your worship.


Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court?

Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father? 111

Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.

li. Where will the old duke live?

Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and many merry men with him; and there they live like the Robin Hood of England: they say many young gentlemen ck to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke ? Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your unger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken b shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and der; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as ust, for my own honour, if he came in therefore, out my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that her you might stay him from his intendment or brook ch disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing his own search and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou alt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice my brother's purpose herein and have by underhand ans laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. tell thee, Charles: it is the stubbornest young fellow of ance, full of ambition, an envious emulator of every n's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou rt best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will prace against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous vice and never leave thee till he hath ta en thy life by ne indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost th tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so vilous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but ould I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and ep and thou must look pale and wonder.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go alone ain, I'll never wrestle for prize more and so God keep ar worship!

li. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles.] Now will stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than Yet he's gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and ined so much in the heart of the world, and especially

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