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By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the This is the man, this is Antonio, poet
[floods; To whom I am so infinitely bound. Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and Por. You should in all sense be much bount Since pought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
to him, But music for the time doth change his nature: For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. The man that hath no music in himself,
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; It must appear in other ways than words, The motions of his spirit are dull as night, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.* And his affections dark as Erebus:
[GRATIANO and Nerissa seem to talk apart. Let no such man be trusted.--Mark the music. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you dú me
wrong ; Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance.
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall. Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, How far that little candle throws his beams! Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. So shines a good deed in a naughty world. Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the Ver. When the moon shone, we did not see
matter? the candle.
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring Por. So doth the greater glory diin the less : That she did give me; whose posy was A substitute shines 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 leare me not. Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Ner. What talk 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, madanı, of the house. That you would wear it till your hour of death;
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; And ihat it should lie with you in your grave? Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Though not for me, yet for yourvehement oaths,
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madai. tuu should have been respective,t and have Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the
kept it. When neither is attended; and, I think, [lark, Cave it a judge's clerk !-but well I know, The nightingale, if she should sing by day, che clerk will ne'er wear hair ou his face, thas When every goose is cackling, would be thought
had it. No better a musician than the wren.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. How many things by season season'd are Nir. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. To their right praise and true perfection
Gru. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youthm. Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, A hind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, And would not be awak'a! [.Vaste ceases. ungher than thyself, the judge's clerk; Lor. That is the voice,
praung buy, that begg'd it as a fee; Or I am much deceiv’d, of Portia.
I could not for my heart deny it him. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows Pur. You were to blame, I must be plain
the cuckoo, By the bad voice.
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; Lor. Dear lady, welcome home.
thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, Por, We have been praying for our husbands' Ind riveted so with faith unto your flesh. welfare,
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Never to part with it; and here he stands; Are they return'd!
dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Lor. Madam, they are not yet;
or pluck it from his finger, for the wealth But there is come a messenger before, That the world masters. Now,in faith,Gratiano, To signify their coming.
you give your wife too unkind a cause of griet; Per. Go in, Nerissa,
An 'were to me, I would be mad at it. Give order to my servants, that they take Buss. Why, I were best to cut my left hand No note at all of our being absent bience ;
off, Nor you, Lorenzo ;--Jessica, nor you. And swear, I lost the ring defending it. (Aside.
(A tucket* sounds. Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, trumpet :
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. That took some pains in writing, he begg'd Por. This night, methinks, is but the day
[aught light sick,
And neither man, nor master, would take It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day,
But the two rings. Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Buss. If I could add a lie unto a fault, their Followers.
I would deny it; but you see, my finger Buss. We should hold day with the Anti- Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. podes,
Por. Even so void is your false heart of trulha If you would walk in absence of the sun, By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Por. Le me give light, but let me not be Until I see the ring. light;
Ner. Nor I in yours, For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, Till I again see niine. And never be Bassanio so for me;
Bass. Sweet Portia, But God sort all !-You are welcome home, If you did know to whorı I gave the ring, my lord.
If you did know for whom I gave the ring, bass. I thank you, madan: give welcome And would conceive for what I gave the ring to my friend.
And how unwillingly I left the ring, • A flourish on a trumpet
mentary form. + Rematele
Wheu nanght would be accepted but the ring, Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him You would abate the strength of your displea
And bid bim keep it better than the other. Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, Ant. Here lord Bassanio; swear to keep this Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
ring. Or your own honour to contain the ring, Buss. By heaven, it is the same I gave the You would not then have parted with the ring.
doctor! What man is there so much unreasonable, Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; If you had pleas'd to have defended it For by this ring the doctor lay with me. With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; To urge the thing held as a ceremony? For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highBass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my
ways No woman had it, but a civil doctor, (soul, 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 And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny
it? And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away ; [him, Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all Even he that had held up the very life
amaz'd: Of my dear friend. What
should I say, sweet Here is a letter, read it at your leisure; I was enforc'd to send it after him; (lady? It comes from Padua, from Bellario: I was beset with shame and courtesy;
There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor; My honour would not let ingratitude
Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady; Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, for, by these blessed candles of the night, And but even now return'd; I have not yet Had you been there, I think you would have Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome; begg'd
And I have better news in store for you, The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my There you shall find, three of your argosies 'house:
Are richly come to harbour suddenly: Since he hath goi the jewel that I lov’d, You shall not know by what strange accident And that which you did swear to keep for me, I chanced on this letter. I will become as liberal as you :
Ant. I am dumb. I'll not deny him any thing I have,
Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you No, not my body, nor my husband's bed :
not? Know him I shall, I am well sure ot' it:
Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me Lie not a night from home; watch me, like
cuckold ? If you do not, if I be left alone, [Argus: Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Unless he live until he be a man. Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well ad. Buss. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bod. vis'd,
fellow; How you do leave me to mine own protection. When I am absent, then lie with my wife. Gru. Well, do you so : let me not take him Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, then ;
and living ; For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. For here I read for certain, that my ships Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these Are safely come to road. quarrels.
Por. How now, Lorenzo ? Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. notwithstanding.
Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; There do I give to you, and Jessica, (fee. And, in the hearing of these many friends, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. Wherein 1 see myself,
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Por. Mark you but that!
Of starved people. In both my eyes he doubly sees himself: Por. It is almost morning, In each eye, one :-swear by your double self, And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied And there's an oath of credit.
Of these events at full: Let us go in; Bass. Nay, but hear me:
And charge us there upon intergatories, Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, And we will answer all things faithfully. I never more will break an oath with thee. Gra. Let it be so: The first intergatory,
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth;* That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, 15, Which, but for him that had your husband's Whether till the next night she had rather stay; ring,
[To Portia. Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, But were the day come, I should wish it dark, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Will never more break faith advisedly. Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. • Advantage.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
DOKE, living in exile.
WILLIAM, a country Fellow, in love with FREDERICK, Brother to the Duke, and Usurper
A Person representing Hymen.
Rosalind, Daughter to the banished Duke.
PHEBé, a Shepherdess.
AUDREY, a country Wench.
Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages,
Foresters, and other Attendants.
The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House; Sir Oliver MARTEXT, a Vicar.
afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in the Forest of Arden.
Orl. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar SCENE 1.-An Orchard, near Oliver's House. that which God made, a poor unworthy brother
of yours, with idleness. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.
Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employed, and be Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this naught awhile. fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a poor Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks thousand crowns; and, as thou say’st, charged with them? What prodigal portion bave I my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: spent, that I should come to such penury? and there begins my sadness. My brother Oli. Know you where you are, Sir ? Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks Orl. O, Sir, very well : here in your orchard. goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps Oli: Know you before whom, Sir? me rustically at home, or, to speak more pro- Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows perly, stays me here at home upkept: For call me. I know, you are my eldest brother; and, you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His know me: The courtesy of nations allows you horses are bred better; for, besides that they my better, in that you are the first-born; but are fair with their feeding, they are taught the same tradition takes not away my blood, their manage, and to that end riders dearly were there twenty brothers betwixi us: I have hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I him but growth; for the which his animals on confess, your coming before me is nearer to his his dung-hills are as much bound to bim as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully
Oli, What, boy! gives me, the something that nature gave me, Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too his countenance seems to take from me: he young in this. lets me feed with his binds, bars me the place Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines Orl. I am no villain:* I am the youngest son my gentility with my education. That is it, of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my and he is thrice a villain, that says, such a father, which I think is within me, begins to father begot villains : Wert thou not my bromutiny against this servitude: I will no longer ther, I would not take this hand from thy endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy throat, till this other had pulled out thy tongue how to avoid it.
for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself,
Adum. Sweet masters be patient; for your Enter OLIVER.
father's remembrance, be at accord. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your bro
Oli. Let me go, I say. tber.
Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall hear Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear me. My father charged you in his will to give how he will shake me up.
me good education : you have trained me like Oli. Now, Sir! what make you here?* a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of any fa thing
ther grows strong in me, and I will no longer Oli. What mar you then, Sir?
* Villain is used in a double sense; by Oliver for
worthless fellow, and by Orlando for a man oi hare en What do you here ?
endure it: therefore allow me such exercises I had myself notice of my orother's purpose as may become a gentleman, or give me the herein, and have by underhand means laboured poor allottery my father left me by testament; to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. with that I will go buy my fortunes.
I'll tell thee, Charles,-it is the stubbornest Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that young fellow of France ; full of ambition, an is spent? Well, Sir, get you in: I will not envious emulator of every man's good parts, a long be troubled with you : you shall have some secret and villanous contriver against me his part of your will: I pray you, leave me. natural brother; therefore use thy discretion;
Orl. I will no further offend you than be. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his comes me for my good.
finger: And thou wert best look to't! for if Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do
Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I not mightily grace himself on thee, he will have lost my teeth in your service.--God be practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by with my old 'master! he would not have spoke some treacherous device, and never leave thee such a word. [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM, till he hath ta’en thy life by some indirect
Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon means or other: for, I assure thee, and almost me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give with tears I speak it, there is not one so young no thousand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis ! and so villanous this day living. I speak but
brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him Enter DENNIS.
to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and Den. Calls your worship?
thou must look pale and wonder. Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler,
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: here to speak with me?
If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payDen. So please you, he is here at the door, ment: If ever be go alone again, I'll never and importunes access to you.
wrestle for prize more: And so, God keep Oli. Call him in. [Erit DENNIS.]—"Twill be your worship!
[Exit. a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Oli. Farewell good Charles.-Now will I
stir this gamester:* I hope, I shall see an end Enter CHARLES.
of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates Cha. Good morrow to your worship.
nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never Oli. Good monsieur Charles !-what's the schooled, and yet learned; full of noble denew news at the new court?
vice: of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and, Cha. There's no news at the court, Sir, but indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and the old news: that is, the old duke is banished especially of my own people, who best know by his younger brother the new duke; and him, that I am altogether misprised: but it three or four loving lords have put themselves shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and all : nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit. gives them good leave * to wander.
Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's SCENE II.-A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. daughter, be banished with her father.
Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. Cha. Ó, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her,-being ever from their Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be cradles bred together,-that she would have merry. followed her exile, or have died to stay behind
Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I her. She is at the court, and no less beloved am mistress of; and would you yet I were merof her uncle than his own daughter; and never rier?. Unless you could teach me to forget a two ladies loved as they do.
banished father, you must not learn me how to Oli. Where will the old duke live?
remember any extraordinary pleasure. Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, there they live like the old Robin Hood of thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, England: they say, many young gentlemen the duke my father, so thou hadst been stili flock to him every day; and fleet the time care with me, I could have taught my love to take lessly, as they did in the golden world. thy father for mine; so would'si thou, if the Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the truth
of thy love to me were so righteously temnew duke ?
pered as mine is to thee. Cha. Marry, do I, Sir; and I came to ac- Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my quaint you with a matter. I am given, Sir, se- estate, to rejoice in yours. cretly to understand, that your younger brother,
Cel. You know, my father hath no child but Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'à , nor none is like to have; and, truly, when against me to try a fall : To-morrow, Sir, I he dies, thou shalt be his heir: for what he wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me
hath taken away from thy father perforce, I without some broken limb, shall acquit him will render thee again in affection : by mine well. Your brother is but young, and tender; honour, I will; and when I break that oath, and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, let me turn monster; therefore, my sweet Rose, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: my dear Rose, be merry. therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither
Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise to acquaint you withal; that either you might sports : let me see ; What think you of falling stay him from his intendment, or brook such in love? disgrace well as he shall run into ; in that it is Cel. Marry, I prythee, do, to make sport a thing of his own search, and altogether withal : but love no man in good earnest : nor against my will.
no further in sport neither, than with safety of oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, a pure blush thou may’st in honour come of which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. again. * ready assent.
* Frolicksome fellow. # of all ranks.
Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. All the better , we shall be the more Cel. Shall we sit and mock the good house- marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau : wife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts What's the news? may henceforth be bestowed equally.
Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much Ros. i would, we could do so; for her bene- good sport. fits are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful Cel. Sport? of what colour? blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall women,
I answer you? Cel 'Tis true : for those, that she makes Ros. As wit and fortune will, fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that Touch. Or the destinies decree. she makes honest, she makes very ill-favour- Cel. Well said ; that was laid on with a edly.
trowel. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, office to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. world, not in the lineaments of nature.
Le Beau. You amaze* me, ladies: I would Enter TouchsTONE.
have told fou ví good wrestling, which you
have lost tise sigai 5t. Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair Ros. Yei teil un tue manner of the wrestling. creature, may she not by fortune fall into the Le Bear. . will tell you the beginning, and, fire ?-Though nature hath given us wit to if it please pour ladyships, you may see the flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where fool to cut off the argument?
you are, they are coming to perform it. Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for Cel. Well,—the beginning, that is dead and nature; when fortune makes nature's natural buried. the cutter off of nature's wit.
Le Beuu. There comes an old man, and his Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work three sons, neither, but nature's ; who perceiving our
Cel. I could match this beginning with aa natural wits too dull to reason of such god old tale. desses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone:
Le Beuu. Three proper young men, of exfor always the dulness of the tool is the whet- cellent growth and presence;stone of his wits.—How now, wit? whither Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known wander you?
unto all men by these presents, Touch. Mistress, you must come away to
Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled your father.
with Chees, the duke's wrestler; which Cel. Were you made the messenger ? Charles in a moment threw him, and broke
Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life to come for you.
in him; so he served the second, and so the Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ?
third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by their father, making such pitiful dole over his honour they were good pancakes, and them, that all the beholders take his part with swore by his bonour the inustard was naught : weeping: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught,
Ros. Alas! and the mustard was good; and yet was not
Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the knight forsworn.
the ladies have lost? Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. of your knowledge ?
Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. it is the first time that ever I heard, breaking
Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke of ribs was sport for ladies. your chins, and swear by your beards that I Cel. Or I, I promise thee. am a knave.
Ros. But is there any else longs to see this Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. broken music in his sides? is there yet another
Touch. By my knarery, if I had it, then I dotes upon rib-breaking ?-Shall we see this were : but if you swear by that that is not, wrestling, cousin ? you are not Yorsworn: no more was the knight, Le Beau. You must, if you stay here : for swearing by his honour, for he never had any; here is the place appointed for the wrestling, or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever and they are ready to perform it. he saw those pancakes or that mustard.
Cel. Ponder, sure, they are coming : Let us Cel. Pr’ythee, who is't thou mean'st? now stay and see it.
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, Flourish. Enter Duke FREDERICK, Lords, Orloves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honour
LANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants. him. Enough! speak no more of him; you'll Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be whipp'd for taxation," one of these days. be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not Ros. Is yonder the man? speak wisely, what wise men de foolishly. Le Beau. Even he, madam.
Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for since Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks sucthe little wit, that fools have, was silenced, cessfully; the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. are you crept hither to see the wrestling ?
Ros. Ay, my liege? so please yon give us Enter Le Beau.
leave. Ros. With his mouth full of news.
Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons can tell you, there is such odds in the men: In feed their young;
pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain dis. Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm d. suade him, but he will not be entreated: