When naught would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displea sure. Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. 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 me, And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away; [him, Even he that had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet I was enforc'd to send it after him; [lady? I was beset with shame and courtesy; My honour would not let ingratitude So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, How you do leave me to mine own protection. Gra. Well, do you so let me not take him then; 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. Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself, Por. Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself: Bass. Nay, but hear me: * Advantage. Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him this; And bid him keep it better than the other. Ant. Here lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. Buss. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! 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. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high ways In summer, where the ways are fair enough: What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it? Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'd: Here is a letter, read it at your leisure; Ant. I am dumb. Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me cuckold? Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man. Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; When I am absent, then lie with my wife. For here I read for certain, that my ships Por. How now, Lorenzo? My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a There do I give to you, and Jessica, [fee.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. Por. It is almost morning, Gra. Let it be so: The first intergatory, [Exeunt. ACT I. Orl. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar SCENE I.—An Orchard, near OLIVER's House. that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. 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. That is it, Adam, 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. Enter OLIVer. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. Oli. Now, Sir! what make you here?* Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, Sir? *What do you here? 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 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: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; 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. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: 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 Villain is used in a double sense; by Oliver for a worthless fellow, and by Orlando for a man of here extraction. 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. Hola, Dennis! Enter 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. Enter CHARLES. 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. 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. Oli. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; 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: To-morrow, 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 intendment, 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. ready assent. 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. young fellow of France; full of ambition, an I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; finger: And thou wert best look to't! for if not mightily grace himself on thee, he will thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect with tears I speak it, there is not one so young means or other: for, I assure thee, and almost 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! [Exit. Oli. Farewell good Charles.-Now will I stir this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never schooled, and yet learned; full of noble device: of all sorts † enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. SCENE II.-A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. 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 any 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, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine; so would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered 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 falling 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 again. a pure blush thou may'st in honour come off Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. Shall we 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-favouredly. 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 fout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? Res. 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 whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? 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? Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand toit, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I 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 forsworn: no more was the 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 thou 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 whipp'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. * Satire. 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 the destinies decree. Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,- Le Beau. 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. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it please your lady ships, 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 Beau. There comes an old man, and his three sons, Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence; Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto all men by these presents, Le Beau. 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 served 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! Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. 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. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? Le Beau. 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. Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, OR- Le Beau. Even he, madam. Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully. Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Ros. Ay, my liege? so please you give us leave. Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated; * Perplex, confuse. him. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move | Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth; I would, thou hadst told me of another father. [Exeunt DUKE FRED. Train, and LE BEAU. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's [calling,* Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. Duke F. Do so: I'll not be by. [DUKE goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler ? Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt. Ros. Do, young Sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprized: we will make it our suit to the duke, that the wrestling might not go forward. Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you! Cel. Your heart's desires be with you. Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, Sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. Duke F. You shall try but one fall. Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [CHARLES and ORLANDO wrestle. Ros. O excellent young man! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [CHARLES is thrown. Shout. Duke F. No more, no more. Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well breathed. Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. [CHARLES is borne out.] What is thy name, young man? Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois." Duke F. I would, thou hadst been son to some man else. [deed, The world esteem'd thy father honourable, son, His youngest son;-and would not change that To be adopted heir to Frederick. Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventur'd. Cel. Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him, and encourage him : [Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me; one out of suits with fortune ;+ [means.That could give more, but that her hand lacks Shall we go, coz? Cel. Ay:-Fare you well, fair gentleman. Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up, Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my fortunes:. [Sir?I'll ask him what he would:-Did you call, Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown More than your enemies. Cel. Will you go, coz? Ros. Have with you :-Fare you well. [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urg'd conference. O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown; sel you To leave this place: Albeit, you have deserv'd Orl. I thank you, Sir; and, pray you, tell me this; Which of the two was daughter of the duke That here was at the wrestling? Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet, indeed, the shorter is his daughter: |