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Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye dóth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested* us to make: therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours; the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you,
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have received your letters, full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
As courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest.
Long. So did our looks.
Ros. We did not quotet them so.

King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in :
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this,
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning:
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood :
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of our love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,

* Tempted.

† Regard.

Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house ;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither entitled in the other's heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,

To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!

Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love ? and what to me ? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. But what to me, my love ? but what to me?

Kath. A wife !-a beard, fair health, and honesty ; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord ;-a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.

Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria ?
Mar. At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.

Biron. Studies my lady? mistress look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks ;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit :
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won),
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce* endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

* Vehement.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death ?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow-laughing hearers give to fools :
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deafʼd with the clamour of their own dear* groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal.
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

Prin. Ay, sweet my lord ; and so I take my leave. [To the King.
King. No, madam: we will bring you on your way.

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play ;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
And then 'twill end.
Biron. That's too long for a play.

Enter ARMADO,
Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,-
Prin. Was not that Hector ?
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo ? it should have followed in the end of our show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.

Arm. Holla! approach. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others.

This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.

SONG.
Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue,

And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-0 word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

* Dire, sad.

II.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straus,

And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,

And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo,–0 word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

III.
Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

To-whoo ;
To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel * the pot.

IV.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw, t
And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and rare,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

To-whoo;
To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of
Apollo. You, that way; we, this way.

[Exeunt. * Cool. † Discourse.

# Wild apples.

THE

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

DUKE OF VENICE.

OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot. PRINCE OF MOROCCO, S Suitors SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice. PRINCE OF ARRAGON, 1 Portia. BALTHAZAR, } Servants to Portia.

LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio. ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice. BASSANIO, his Friend. SALANIO, Friends to Antonio

PORTIA, a rich Heiress. SALARINO, and Bassanio.

NERISSA, her Waiting-maid.
GRATIANO,

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.
LORENZO, in love with Jessica.
SHYLOCK, a Jew.

MAGNIFICOES of VENICE, OFFITUBAL, a Jew, his friend.

CERS of the Court of JUSTICE LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, JAILER, SERVANTS, and other Servant to Shylock.

ATTENDANTS.

SCENE.—Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of

Portia, on the Continent.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.

Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came hy it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies* with portly sail, -
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,
Or, as it were the pageants of the sea, -
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
That curt'sy to them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.

* Ships of large burthen.

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