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Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and This is the man, this is Antonio, floods ;

To wbom I am so infinitely boudd. Since nought so stockish, bard, and full of rage, Por. You should in all sense be much bound to But music for the time doth change his nature :

him, The man that hath no music in himself,

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Nor is not mor'd with concord of sweet sounds, Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;

Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house The motions of bis spirit are dull as night, It must appear in other ways than words, And bis affections dark as Erebus:

Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy. Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.

[GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apari.

Gra. By yonder moon, I swear you do me Enter Portia and NERISSA, at a distance.

Por. That light we see, is burning in my ball. In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk :
How far that little candle throws his beams! Would he were gelt that bad it, for my part,
So sbines a good deed in a naughty world.

Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter? candle.

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
Por. So doth the greater glory din the less : That she did give me ; whose posy was
A substitute sbines brightly as a king,

For all the world, like cutler's poetry
Until a king be by: and then his state

Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not. Empties itself, as doth an inland brook

Ner. What calk you of the posy, or the value ? Into the main of waters. Music! hark !

You swore to me, when I did give it you, Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. That you would wear it till your bour of death ; Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;

And that it should lie with you in your grave : Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,

Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. You should have been respective, and have kept it.

Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, Gave it a judge's clerk !-- but well I know, When neither is attended ; and, I think,

The clerk will ne'er wear bair on his face, that The nightingale, if she should sing by day,

had it. Wben erery goose is cackling, would be thought Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. No better a musician than the wren.

Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. How many things by season seasoned are

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, To their right praise, and true perfection !

A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, Peace, boa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk ; And would not be awak'd !

[Music ceases. A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ; Lor.

That is the voice, I could not for my heart deny it him. Orl am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the

you, cuckoo,

To part 80 slightly with your wife's first gift; By the bad voice.

A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home. And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. Por. We have been praying for our husbands' I gave my love a ring, and made him swear welfare,

Never to part with it ; and bere he stands ; Which speed. we hope, the better for our words. I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Are they return'd?

Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
Madam, they are not yet;

That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, But there is come a messenger before,

You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; To signify their coming.

An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Go in, Nerissa,

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left band off, Give order to my servants, that they take And swear, I lost the ring defending it. [ Aside. No note at all of our being absent hence ;

Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away Nor you, Lorenzo ;--Jessica, nor you.

Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed,

(A tucket sounds. Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, Lor. Your husband is at band, I hear his That took some pains in writing, he beggd triimpet :

mine: We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. And neither man, nor master, would take aught Por. Tbis night, metbinks, is but the daylight But the two rings. sick.


What ring gave you, my lord ? It looks a little paler: 'lis a day,

Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.

I would deny it; but you see, my finger

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, By Heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
If you would walk in absence of the sun.

Until I see the ring.
Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; Ner.

Nor I in yours,
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 'Till I again see mine.
And never be Bassanio so for me ;


Sweet Portia, But God sort all !—You are welcome home, my If you did know to whom I gave the ring, lord.

If you did know for whom I gave the ring, Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcomo to my and would conceive for what I gave the ring, friend.

And how unwillingly I left the ring,

When naught would be accepted but the ring, Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give hit You would abate the strength of your displeasure.

this; Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, And bid bim keep it better than the other. Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,

Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this Or your own honour to contain the ring,

ring. You would not then have parted with the ring. Bass. By Heaven, it is the same I gave the What man is there so much unreasonable,

doctor! If you had pleas'd to bave defended it

Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio ; With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty For by this ring the doctor lay with me. To urge the thing held as a ceremony?

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; Nerissa teaches me what to believe;

For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, l'll die for't, but some woman bad the ring. In lieu of this, last night did lie with me.

Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, Gra. Wby, this is like the mending of high-ways No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

In summer, where the ways are fair enough: Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it! And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'ü And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;

Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; Even be that had held up the very life

It comes from Padua, from Bellario : Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor lady?

Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo hore I was enforc'd to send it after him;

Sball witness, I set forth as soon as you, I was beset with shame and courtesy :

And but even now return’d; I have not yet My honour would not let ingratitude

Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady; And I have better news in store for you, For by these blessed candles of the night,

Than you expect : unseal this letter soon; Had you been there, I think, you would have There you shall find, three of your argosios begg'd

Are richly come to barbour suddenly : The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

You shall not know by what strange accident Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my I chanced on this letter. house:


I am dumb. Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd,

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you And that which you did swear to keep for me,

not? I will become as liberal as you ;

Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me I'll not deny him anything I bave,

cuckold ? No, not my body, nor my husband's bed :

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:

Unless he live until he be a man. Lie not a night from bome; watch me, like Argus ; Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; If you do not, if I be left alone,

When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
Now, by mine bonour, which is yet mine own, Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, For here I read for certain, that my ships
How you do leave me to mine own protection. Are safely come to road.
Gra. Well do you so : let not me take him then; Por.

How now, Lorenzo ? For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk’s pen. Aly clerk hath some good comforts too for you.

Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.Por. Sir, grieve not you;, you are welcome, not. There do I give to you, and Jessica, withstanding.

From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; After his death, of all he dies possessid of, And, in the hearing of these many friends,

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way I swear to thee, even by thine owo fair eyes, Of starved people. Wberein I see myself,


It is almost morning, Por.

Mark you but that! And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied In both my eyes he doubly sees himself :

Of these events at full : Let us go in; In each eye one :--swear by your double self, And charge us there upon intergatories, And there's an oath of credit,

And we will answer all tbings faithfully. Bass.

Nay, but hear me : Gra. Let it be so; The first intergatory, Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is, I never more will break an oath with thee. Wbetbér till the next night she had rather stay,

Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; Or go to bed now, being two hours to-day : Whicb, but for him that bad your husband's ring, But were the day come, I should wish it dark,

(To PORTIA. That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, Well, wbile 1 live, I'll fear no other thing My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord

So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. Will never more break faith advisedly.

Exeunt o

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you here?

but I, his brother, gain Lothing under bim buc PERSONS REPRESENTED.

growth; for the which his animals on bis dunghills DWAE, li ing in exile.

are as much bound to bim as I. Besides this noFREDERICK, brotker to the Duke, and usurper of his thing that he so plentifully gives me, the somsdominions.

thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems AMIENS ? Lords attending upon the Duke in his to take from me: he lets me feed with his binds, JAQUES, banishment.

bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in Le Beav, u courtier attending upon Frederick. bim lies, mines iny gentility with my education. CHARLES, his wrestler.

This is it, Adam, that grievės me; and the spirit OLIVER,

of my father, which I think is within ne, begins to JAQUES,

sons of Sir Rowland de Bois. mutiny against this serritude: I will no longer 0.

endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how ADAM,

to avoid it.
servants to Oliver.

Enter Oliver.
TOUCHETONE, a clown.
Sir OUVER MAR-TEXT, a vicar.

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Corin,

Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how Sylvius, } shepherds.

he will shake me up. William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. Oli. Now, sir! what make A Person representing Hymen.

Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any.

thing. Rosalind, daughter to the bunished Duke.

Oli. What mar you then, sir ?
Celia, daughter to Frederick.
Puebe, a shepherdess.

Orl. Marry, sir, I am belpiug you to mar that

which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, AUDREY, a country wench.

with idleness. Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; Pages, Foresters, Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be and other Attendants.

Daught awbile. The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House ; after them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat busks with wards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in should come to such penury ? the Forest of ARDEN.

Oli. Know you where you are,

sir ?
Orl. O, sir, very well: bere in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, sir?
Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me.
I know, you are my eldest brotber; and, in the

gentle condition of blood, you should so know me : ACT I.

The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in

that you are the first-born; but the same tradition SCENE I. -An Orchard, near Oliver's House.

takes not away my blood, were there twenty bro

thers betwixt us : I bave as much of my father in Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before

me is nearer to bis reverence. Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this Oli. What, boy! fashion bequeatbed me: By will, but a poor thou. Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too sand crowns : and, as thou say'st, charged my young in this. brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques be Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his Sir Rowland de Bois : he was my father; and be proật: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot or, to speak more properly, stays me here at bome villains : Wert thou not my brother, I would not unkept : For call you that keeping for a gentleman take this hand from tby throat, till this other had of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast ox? 'His borses are bred better; for, besides that railed on thyself. they are fair with their feeding, they are taught Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your futhoir mauaga, and to that end riders dearly hired: ther's remembrance, be at accould

Oli. Let me go, I say.

bither to acquaint you withal; that either you might Orl. I will not, till i please : you shall bear me. slay bim from his intendment, or brook such disMy father charged you in bis will to give me good grace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing education : you have trained me like a peasant, of his own search, and altogether against my will. obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, qualities the spirit of my father grows strong in which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I me, and I will ni longer endure it: therefore allow had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or and have by underhand mtans laboured to dissuade give me the poor allotery my father left me by tes- him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, tament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. Charles,-it is the stubbornest young fellow of

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is France ; full of ambition, an envious emulator of spent? Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be every man's good parts, a secret and villanous controubled with you : you shall have some part of triver against me his natural brother; therefore use your will : I pray you, leave me.

thy discretion ; I had as lief thou didst break his Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes neck as bis finger: And thou wert best look to't ; me for my good.

for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have against thee by poison, entrap thee by some trealost my teeth in your service.-God be with my old cherous device, and never leave thee till he hath master! be would not have spoke such a word. ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for,

[Exeunt ORLANDO and Adam. ! assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me? is not one so young and so villanous tbis day livI will physic your rarkness, and yet give no thou. ing. I speak but brotherly of him : but should I sand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!

anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and Enter Dennis.

weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If Den. Calls your worship?

be come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment : If Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize to speak with me.

more : And so, God keep your worsbip! [Exit. Den. So please you, be is here at the door, and Oli. Farewell, good Charles.- Now will I stir importunes access to you.

this gamester : 1 hope, I shall see an end of him ; Oli. Call bim in. (Exit DENNIS.)-'Twill be a for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. more than he. Yet he's gentle ; Dever school'd,

and yet learned ; full of noble device; of all sorts Enter CHARLES.

enchantingly beloved ; and, inderd, so much in the Cha. Good morrow to your worship.

-heart of the world, and especially of my own people, Oli. Good monsieur Charles !—wbat's the new who best know him, that I om altogether misprised : news at the new court ?

but it shall not be so long ; this wrestler sball clear Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the all : nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his thither, which now I'll go about.

[Exit. younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary

SCENE 11.- A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich

Enter RosALIND and Celia. the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh- merry. ter, be banished with her father?

Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier ? 80 loves her,—being ever from their cradles bred Unless you could teach me to forget a banished fa. together, -that she would have followed ber exile, ther, you must not learn me how to remember any or have died to stay bebind her. She is at the extraordinary pleasure. court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the daughter; and never tro ladies loved as they do. full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy ba. Oli. Where will the old duke live?

nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Ar- father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could den, and a many merry men with him ; and there have taught my love to take thy father for mine ; they live like the old Robin Hood of England : so would'st thou, if the truth of tby love to me weré they say many young gentlemen flock to him every so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my the golden world.

estate, to rejoice in yours. Oii. W bat, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, duke ?

nor none is like to have ; and, truly, when he dies, Cha. Marry, do I, sir; ard I came to acquaint thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to un- from thy father perforce, I will render thee again derstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath in affection; by mine bonour, I will; and when I a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try break that oath, let me turn monster; therefore, my a fall : Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. and be that escapes me without some broken limb, Ros. From henceforth, I will, coz, and devise shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young sports : let me see ; What think you of falling in and-tender; and, for your love, I would be loath love? to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if be Cei. Marry. I pr’ytkee, do, to make sport withal : come in : therefore, out of my love to you, I come but love no man in good earnest ror no further in

sport neither, than with safrty of a pure blush thou ketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Boau: What's may'st in honour come off again.

the news? Ros. What shall be our sport then !

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost mucb Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, good sport. Fortune, from her wheel, that her gists may hence. Cel. Sport? of what colour ? forth be bestowed equally.

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How sballi Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits answer you? are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful blind Ros. As wit and fortune will. woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Touch. Or as the destinies decree.

Cel. 'Tis true : for those, that she makes fuir, she Cel. Well said ; that was laid on with a trowel. scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.

Ros. Thou losest thy old sinell. Ros. Nay, now tbou goest from fortune's office to Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have nature's; fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the in the lineaments of nature.

sight of.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Enter TouchstoNE.

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair crea- please your ladyships, you may see the end; for ture, may she not by fortune fall into the fire ?— the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they Though nature hath given us wit to filout at fortune, are coming to perform it. hath not tortune sent in this fool to cut off the Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and argument?

buried. Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature ; Le Bear. There comes an old man, and bis three when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off sons, of nature's wit.

Cel. I could match this beginning, with an old Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work tale. neither, but nature's; who, perceiving our natural Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent wits too doll to reason of such goddesses, bath sent growth and presence ; this natural for our whetstone : for always the dul- Ros. With bills on their necks,- Be it known ness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How unto all men by these presents, now, wit? wbither wander you?

Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a father.

moment threw him, and broke three of bis ribs, Cel. Were you made the messenger ?

that there is little hope of life in him : so he served Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to the second, and so the third : Yonder they lie; the come for you.

poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ? over them, that all the beholders take bis part with

Tmuch. Of a certain knight, that swore by bis weeping. honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his Ros. Alas! honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was ladies bave lost? good : and yet was not the knight forsworn.

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it your knowledge ?

is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. was sport for ladies.

Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your Cel. Or I, I promise thee. ubins, and swear by your heards that I am a knave. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were : rib-breaking ?-Shall we see töis wrestling, cousin ? but if you swear by that that is not, you are not Le Beau. You must, if you stay here : for here is forsworn: do more was this knight, swearing by the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he ready to perform it. bad sworn it away, before ever Le saw those pan- Cél. Yonder, sure, they are coming : Let us now cakes or that mustard.

stay and see it. Cel. Pr’ythee, who is't that thou mean'st ? Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.

Flourish. Enter Duke FreDENICK, Lords, OR Cel My father's love is enough to honour him.

LANDO, Charles, and Attendants. Enough! speak no more of him : you'll be whip’d Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be for taxation, one of these days.

entreated, his own peril on his forwardness, Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak Ros. Is yonder the man? wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Le Beau. Even be, madam. Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true : for since the

Cel. Alas, he is too young : yet he lonks suclittle wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little cessfully. foolery, that wise men bave, makes a great show. Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? are Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.

you crept hither to see the wrestling ?

Ros. Ay, my liege : so please you give us leave Enter LE BEAU.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can Rys. With his mouth full of news.

tell you, there is such odds in the men : In pity of Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, thoir young

but he will not be entreated : Speak to him, ladies; Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

soe if you can move him. Cel. All the better ; we shall be the more mar. Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau,

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