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(kept it.

with yon,

How many things by season season'd are

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the To their right praise, and true perfection!

value? Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, You swore to me, when I did give it you, And would not be awak'a ! (Music ceuses. That you would wear it till your honr of Lor. That is the voice, death ;

(grave: Or I ain much deceived, of Portia.

And that it should lie with you in your Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows Though not for me, yet for your vehement the cuckoo,

vaths, By the bad voice.

You should have been respectives, and have Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home. Gave it a judge's clerk !--but well I know, Por. We have been praying for our hus. The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, bands' welfare,


that had it. Which speed, we hope, the better for our Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Are they return'd?

Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Lor.

Madam, they are not yet ; Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a But there is come a messenger before,

youth, -To signify their coining.

A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,
Goin, Nerissa,

No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk;
Give order to my servants, that they take A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee;
No note at all of our being absent hence ;- I could no! for my heart deny it him.
Nor you, Lorenzo ;-Jessica, nor you.

Por. You were to blame, must be plain (A tucket * suunds. Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; trumpet:

A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger We are no tell-tales, madam; fear yon not. And rivetted so with faith unto your flesh. Por. This night, methinks, is but the day. I gave my love a ring, and made him swear light sick,

Never to part with it; and here lie stands; It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,

I dare be sworn for him, he would not leavet., Such as the day is when the sun is hid. Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealtlı Enter BassanJO, A TONTO, GRATIANO, and That ihe world masters. Now, in faith, Gratheir Followers.


[grief; Bass. We should hold day with the Anti- You give your wife too unkind a canse of podes,

An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. If you would walk in absence of the sun. Bass. Why, I were best to cnt my left Por. Let me give light, but let me not be hand off,

side. light;

And swear, I lost the ring defending it. For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away And uever be Bassanio so for me ;

Unto the judge that begy'd it, and, indeed, But God sort all!-You are welcome home, Deserved it tov; and then the boy, bis clerk,

That took some pains in writing, he begg'd Bass. I thank you, madam: give weleome niine :

[anght to my friend.

And neither mani, nor master, would take This is the man, this is Antonio,

But the two rings. To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? Por. You should in all sense be much Not that, I hope, which you received of me. bound to hiin,

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. I would deny it; but yon see, my finger

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our Por. Even so void is your false heart of house :

truth, It inust appear in other ways than words, By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy 1.

Until I see the ring. (GRATIANO and VERISSA seem to talk Ner.

Nor I in

yours, apurt.

Till l'again see mine. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do Bass.

Sweet Portia, me wrong;

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: If you did know for whom I gave the ring, Would he were gelt that had it, for my And would conceive for what I gave the riog, part,

[heart. And how unwillingly I left the ring, Since you do take it, love, so much at When nought would be accepted but the ring, Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the You would abate the strength of your dismatter?


(ring, Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring Por. If yon had known the virtue of the That she did give me; whose posy was Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Por all the world, like cutler's poetry

Or your own honour to contain the ring, Upon a kuife, Love me, and leave me not. You would not then bave parted with the ring • A flourish on a trumpet.

+ Verbal, complimentary form. * Regariful.

my lord.

What inan is there so much unreasonable, An. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep li you had pleas' to have defended it

this ring.

(the doctor! Witb any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty Bass. By heaven, it

the same I gast To urge the thing held as a ceremony?

Por. I had it of hini: pardon me, Bassanio; Nerissa teaches me what to believe;

For by this ring the doctor lisy wiih me. I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. Nr. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiar:o ;

Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's No woman-bad it, but a civil doctor, soul, clerk, Which did refuse three thousand ducrts of In lieu of this, last night vid lie with me. me,

[him, Gra. Why, this is like the mending of Andi begg'il the ring; the which I did deny highways And sauter'd him to go displeas'd away; In summer, where the ways are fair enough: Even be that had held up the very lite What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deservd Or my dear friend. What should I say, it?

{amazeri: sweet lady?

Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all I was enforc'd to send it after him ;

Here is a letter, read it at your leisure; 1 was beset with shame and courtesy; It comes from Padua, from Bellario : (tor; My honour would not let ingratitude There you shall find, ihal Portia was the docSo much besmear it: Pardun me, good lady; Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here For, by these blessed canilles of the night, Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, Had you been there, I think, you would have And but even now return'd; I have not yet begg'd

Enter'd my house. - Antonio, you are welThe riug of me to give the worthy doctor.

come; Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near And I have better news in store for you iny house :

Than yon expect : unseal this letter sou; Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, There you shall find, three of ynur argosies Au that which you did swear to keep for me, Are richly come to harbour suddenly : I will become as liberal as you:

You shall not know by what strange accident I'll not deny him any thing I have,

I chauced on this letter. No, not my body, nor my husband's bed : Ant.

I am dumb. know him I shall, I am well sure of it: Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew Lie not a night from home; watch me, like

yon not? li you do noi, if I be left alone, [Argus: Gra. Were yon the clerk, that is to make Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, me cuckold?

(to do it, I'll have that doctor for my bediellow.

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well Unless he live until he be a man. advis'd,

Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed. How you do leave me to mine own protection.

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

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, Por, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.

and living; Ant. I ain the unhappy subject of these For here I read for certain, that my ships quarrels.

Are safely come to road. Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are wel- Pur.

How now, Lorenzo ? come notwithstanding. [wrong; My clerk hath some good comforts too for Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced you.

(a fee.-And, in the hearing of these many friends, Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without : swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, There do I give to you, and Jessica, Wherein I see myself,

From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, Pur.

Mark you but that! After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. In both my eyes he doubly sees himself: Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way In each eye, oue:-swear by your double self, of starved people. And there's an oath of credit.

Por. It is almost morning,

Nay, but hear me: And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, Of these even's at full: Let us go in;
I never more will break an oath with thee. And charge us there upon inter’gatories,
Ant. I once did lend my body for his And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gru. Let it be so: The first inter’gatory, Which, but for bim that had your husband's That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is, ring,

(TO PORTIA. Whether till the next night she had rather stay; Hul quite miscarried: 1 dare be bound again, Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : My soul opon the forfeit, that your lord But were the day come, I should wish it dark Will never inore break faith advisedly. That I were conching with the doctor's clerk. Por. Then you shall be his sarety: Give Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing him tliis;


sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. And bid hiin keep it better than the other.

(Exeunt. • Advantage.

then ;

Persons represented. DOKE, living in exile.

| TOUCHSTONE, a clown. FREDERICK, brother to the Duke, and Sir Oliver MAR-TEXT, a vicar. usurper of his dominions.

AMIENS, lords attending upon the Duke } shepherds.

in his banishment.
Le BEAU, a courtier attending upon WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with

Audrey. CHARLES, his wrestler.

A Person representing Hymen. OLIVER,

ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke. JAQUES, sons of Sir Rowland de Bois.

Celia, daughter to Frederick.

PHEBE, a shepherdess.
} servants to Oliver.

AUDREY, a country wench. 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.

ACT I. SCENE I. An Orchard, near Oliver's Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt bear House.

how he will shake nie np.

Oli. Now, sir! what make yon here? Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make Orl. As I remember, Adam, was upon any thing. this fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a Oli. What mar you then, sir? poor thousand crowns; and, as thou say'st, Orl. Marry, sir, I ain bielping you to mar charged any brother, on his blessing, to breed that which God made, a poor unworthy me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother of yours, with idleness. brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and speaks goldenly of his profit : for my part, be naught awhile. he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak Orl. Shall I keep your hoge, and eat husks inore properly, stays me here at home unkept: with them? Whai prodigal portion bave I For call you that keeping for a gentleman of spent, that I should come to such penury? my birth, that differs not from the stalling of Oli. Know you where you are, sir? an ox? His horses are bred better; for, Orl. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard. besides that they are fair with their feeding, Oli. Know you before whom, sir ? they are taught their manage, and to that end Orl, dy, better than he I ain before knows riders dearly hired : but I, his brother, gain me. I know, you are my eldest brother; nothing under him but growth ; for the which and, in the gentle condition of blool, you his animals ou his dung-hills are as much should so know me: The conrtesy of nations bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that allows you my better, in that you are the firstbe so plentifully gives me, the something that born; but the same tradition takes not away nature gave me, his countenance seems to my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt take from me: he lets me feed with his binds, us: I have as much of my father in me, as bars me the place of a brother, and, as much you; albeit, I confess, your coming before as in him lies, mines my gentility with my me is nearer to his reverence. education. This is it, Adain, that grieves Oli. What, boy! me; and the spirit of my father, which I Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are think is within me, begins to mutiny against too young in this. this servitude: I will no longer endure it, oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? though yet I know no wise remedy how to Orl. I am no villaint: I am the youngest avoid it.

son of sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; Enter Oliver.

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 yon here? + Villain is used in a double sense ; by Oliver for a worthless

fellow, and by Orlando for a man of base extraction.

throal, till this other had pulled out thy tongue and there they live like the old Robin Hood of for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself England : they say, many young gentleniert

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your flock to him every day; and fleet the time father's remembrance, be at accord.

carelessly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. Let me go, I say.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall the new duke? kear me. My father charged you in his will Cha. Marry, do 1, sir; and I came to to give me good education : you have trained acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, nie like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from secretly to understand, that your younger me all gentleman-like qualities : the spirit brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come of my father grows strong in me, and I will in di guis'd against me to try a fast: Tono longer endure it: therefore allow me snch morrow, sir, I wrestle for my creatit; and he exercises as may become a gentleman, or that escapes me without some broken limb, give me the poor allottery my father left me shall acqnit him welt. Your brother is but by testament; with that I will go buy my youus, and tender; and, for your love, I fortunes.

womd be loath to foil him, as I must, for my Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of that is spent ? Well, sir, get you in : I will my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you not long be troubled with you: you shall withal; that either you might stay hin from have some part of your will: I pray you, his intentment, or brook such disgrace well leave me.

as he shall rou into ; in that it is a thing of Orl. I will no further offend you than his own search, and altogether against iny becomes me for ny good.

will. Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, me, which thou shalt fiud I will most kindly I have lost my tecih in your service.-Gou requite. I had myself notice of my brother's be with my old inaster! he would not have purpose herein, and have by underhand spoke such a word.

means laboured to disso ade trin fron it; but [Eleunt ORLANDO and ADAM. he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles,- it is Oli. Is it ever so? begin you to grow the stubboruest young fellow of France; full upon me? I will physic your rankness, and of anıbition, an envious emulator of every yet gire no thousand crowns neither. Hola, man's good parts, a secret and villanous conDennis

triver against me his natural brother; there. Enter DENNIS.

fore use thy discretion; I had as lief thvus Den. Calls your worship?

didst break his neck as his finger: And thou Oli. Wu not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, wert best look to't ; for if thou dost him any here to speak with me?

slight disgrace, or if he do not nightily grace Den. So please you, he is here at the door, himself on thee, he will practise against thee and importunes access to you.

by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous Oli. Call him in. (Exit DENNIS.]-Twill device, and never leave the till he hath be a good way; and to-morrow the wrest- ta'en thy life by some indirect means us ling is.

other : for, I assure thee, and almost with Enter CHARLES.

tears I speak it, there is not one so young and Cha. Good-morrow to your worship. so villanous this day liviug. I speak but

Oli. Good monsieur Charles !-what's the brotherly of himn; but should I anatomize new news at the new court

him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but and thou must louk pule and wonder. the old news: that is, the old duke is ba

Cha. I am hearuly glad I came bitber to vished by his younger brother the new duke ; you: If he come tv-morrow, I'll give him and three or fons loving lords have put them his payment: If ever he go alone again, l'ad selves ioto voluntary exile with bim, whose never wrestle for prize niore: And so, God lands and revenues enrich the new duke; keep your worship !

[Erit. therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oli. Farewell, good Charles.- Now will I

Oli. Cun yon tell, it Rosalind, the duke's stir this gamesiert: I hope, I shall see an daughter, be banishert with her father. end of him ; for my soul, yet I know not

Cha. O, no; for the duke's staughter, her why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's consin, so loves her,-being ever from their genile; rever school'd, in 1 yet learned ; full cradles tred together, that she wonld have of uoble device; of all sorts I enchantincly followed her exile, or have died to stay be beloverd; and, indeed, so much in the heart of hind her. She s at the court, and no less the world, and especially of my own people, beloved of her uncle ihan his own daughter ; who ***86 know him, tisat I am altogether and never two larlies loved as they do. miepriserl : but it shall not be so long; this Oli. Where will the old doke live!

wrestler shall clear all. nothing remains, but l'ha. They say, he is already in the forest that I kindle the buy thither, which now I'll of Ardea, aw a many merry men with him; ! go about.

(Exit, • A ready assent,

Policsome fellow. Of all rauks.

me to

SCENE 11. A Lawn before the Duke's, stone : for always the dulness of the food is Palace.

the whetstone of his wits. -How now, wit Enter ROSALIND and Celia.

whither wander you?

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to Cel. I pray thee, kosalind, sweet my coz,

your father. be merry

Cel. Were you made the messenger? Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of'; and would you yet I were bid to come for you.

Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was merrier ? Unless you could teach

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? ferget a banished father, you must not learn

Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by me how to remember any extraordinary his honour they were good pancakes, and pleasure.

swore by his honour the mustard was nanght: Cei. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not


Ml stand to it, the pancakes were with the full weight that I love thee: if my naught, and the mistard was good ; and yet ancle, thy banished father, had banished thy was not the knight forsworn. ancle, the duke my father, 30 thou badst been

Cel. How prove you that, in the great still with me, I could have taught my love to heap of your knowledge? take thy father for mine ; 90 wouldst thou,

Ros. Ay, marry ; now anmuzzle your ir the truth of thy love to me were so righ- | wisdom. leously temper'd as mine is to thee.

Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of your chins, and swear by your beards that I my estate, to rejoice in yours.

am a knave. Cel. You know, my father hath no child

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. but I, nor none is like to have ; and, truly,

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I when he dies, thou shalt be his heir : for were : but if you swear by that that is not, what he hath taken away from thy father you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, perforce, I will render thee again in affection; i swearing by his honcur, for he never had any; by mine honour, I will; and when I break or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever that oath, let me turn monster : therefore, my he saw those pancakes or that nustard. sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

(el. Prythee, who is't that thon mean'sts Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, devise sports : let me see; What think you loves. of falling in love?

Cel. My father's love is enough to honous Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport bim. Enongh : speak nu more of him; you'll withal: but love no man in good earnest; be whip'd for taxation, one of these days. por no further in sport neither, than with

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour speak wisely, what wise inen do foolishly. come off again.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true : for Ros. What shall be our sport then? since the little wit, that fools have, was

Cel. Let us sit and mock the good house. silenced, the little foolery, that wise men wife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts have, makes a great sliow. Here comes inay henceforth be bestowed equally.

Monsieur Le Beau. Řos. I would, we could do so; for her

Enter LE BEAU. benefits are mightily misplaced : and the Ros. With his mouth full of news. bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons her gifts to women.

feed their young. Cel. "Tis true : for those, that she makes Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that Cel. All the better; we shall be the more she makes honest, she makes very ill-fa- marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : vour'dly.

What's the news? Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost office to nature's : fortune reigns in gifts of much good sport. the world, not in the lineaments of nature. Cel. Sport? Of what colour ? Enter TOUCHSTONE,

Le Beuu. What colour, madam? How Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair shall I answer you? creature, may she not by fortune fall into the Ros. As wit and fortune will. fres-Though nature hath given us wit to Touch. Or as the destinies decree. Tout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this Cel. Well said ; that was laid on with a fool to cut off the argument?

trowel. Hos. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,Dature; when fortune makes nature's natural Rus. Thou losest ihy old smell. the cutter off of nature's wit..

Le Beau. You amazet me, ladies: I Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's would have told you of good wrestling, which work neither, but nature's ; who perceiving you have lust the sight of. our natural wits too dull to reason of such Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. goddesses, naiba sent this natural for our whet. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning,

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