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Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet:

We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. Por. This night, methinks, is but the day. light sick,

It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
their Followers.

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Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a

A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk;
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee;
I could not for my heart deny it him.
Por. You were to blame, I must be plain
with you,

To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And rivetted so with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gra-

Bass. We should hold day with the Anti-You give your wife too unkind a cause of podes, An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, Easide.

If you would walk in absence of the sun.

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;

For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me;

But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord.

Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome
to my friend.-

This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all sense be much
bound to him,

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house:

It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy t. [GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart.

1 Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do 'me wrong;

In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, [heart. Since you do take it, love, so much at Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the

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And swear, I lost the ring defending it.

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg'd


[aught And neither man, nor master, would take But the two rings.

Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you received of me. Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

I would deny it; but you see, my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.

Por. Even so void is your false heart of


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+ Verbal, complimentary form.

+ Regardful.

What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring,
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my
No woman had it, but a civil doctor, [soul,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;
Even he that had held up the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say,
sweet lady?

I was enforc'd to send it after him;
I was beset with shame and courtesy;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besinear it: Pardon me, good lady;
For, by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think, you would have

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house:

Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd,-
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you:
I'll not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
Lie not a night from home; watch me, like
If you do not, if I be left alone, [Argus:
Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd,

How you do leave me to mine own protection.

Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. [the doctor ! Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; For by this ring the doctor lay with me.

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,

In lieu of this, last night did lie with me.
Gro. Why, this is like the mending of

In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd
Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario: [tor;
There you shall find, that Portia was the doc-
Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you,
And but even now return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are wel

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Gra. Well, do you so : let not me take him | When I am absent, then lie with my wife.


For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.

Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome notwithstanding, [wrong; Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself,


Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself: In each eye, one :-swear by your double self, And there's an oath of credit.

Bass. Nay, but hear me: Pardon this fault, and by my soul, I swear, I never more will break an oath with thee. Ant. I once did lend my body. for his wealth *;

Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, [TO PORTIA. Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly.

Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him this ;

And bid him keep it better than the other.

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given ine life, and living;

For here I read for certain, that my ships
Are safely come to road.


How now, Lorenzo?
My clerk hath some good comforts too for
[a fee.-
Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without
There do I give to you, and Jessica,
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.

It is almost morning,
And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full: Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so: The first inter❜gatory,
That 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.

* Advantage.


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Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, Foresters, and other Attendants.

The Scene lies, first, near Oliver's House: afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in the forest of Arden.


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Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou say'st, 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 me 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 dung-hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adamn, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.


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

Oli. Now, sir! what make you here? Ori. 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 employ'd, 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 such 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 he 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 nearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

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

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? Orl. I am no villain t: I am the youngest son of sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your father begot villains: Wert thou not my brother. brother, I would not take this hand from thy

What do you here? + Villain is used in a double sense; by Oliver for a worthless fellow, and by Orlando for a man of base extraction.

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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. Hola, 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.

and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did 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 a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall: Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendiment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles,-it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath

Oli. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS.]-Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrest-ta'en thy life by some indirect means or ling is.


Cha. Good-norrow 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 them selves 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.

other : for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

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


Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir this gamestert: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's cousin, so loves her, being ever from their gentle; never school'd, and yet learned; full cradles bred together, that she would have of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly followed her exile, or have died to stay be beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of hind her. She is at the court, and no less the world, and especially of my own people, beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; who best know him, that I am altogether and never two ladies loved as they do. misprised but it shall not be so long; this Oli. Where will the old duke live? wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains, but Cha. They say, he is already in the forest that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll of Arden, and a many merry met with him; | go about. [Exit

* A ready assent.

+ Frolicsome fellow.

1 Of all ranks.

SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke's stone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits-How now, wit? whither wander you?


Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz,

be merry.

Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember auy extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, 30 thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee.

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports let me see; What think you of failing in love?

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.

Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally.

Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour'dly.

Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature. Enter TOUCHSTONE.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?

Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit,

Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whet

* Satire.

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel. Were you made the messenger ? Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was

bid to come for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? his honour they were good pancakes, and Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn.

heap of your knowledge? Cel. How prove you that, in the great

Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your


your chius, and swear by your beards that I Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke

am a knave.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that that is not, you are not fors worn: 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 pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thon mean'st? Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.

Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him. Enough!, speak no more of him; you'll be whip'd for taxation, one of these days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st 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.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

Cel, Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : What's the news?

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.

Cel. Sport? Of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I answer you?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.

Touch. Or as the destinies decree.

Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.

Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beau. You amazet 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. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning,

* Perplex, confuse.

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