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Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield.

[To Ant.] Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake;

(To Bass. And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you:

Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more; And you in love shall not deny me this.

Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle! I will not shame myself to give you this.

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Por. I will have nothing else but only this; And now methinks I have a mind to it.

Bass. There's more depends on this than on the value.

The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation:
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers:
You taught me first to beg; and now methinks
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd.
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my
wife;

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Lor. Leave hollaing, man: here.
Laun, Sola! where? where?
Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news: my master will be here ere morning. (Exit. Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.

And yet no matter: why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.

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[Exit Stephano. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Enter Musicians.

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Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws his beams! go So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect: Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended, and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion And would not be awaked. [Music ceases. Lor. That is the voice, 110

Or I am much deceived, of Portia.

Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice. Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands'

healths,

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?

Lor.
Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.

Por.

Go in, Nerissa: Give order to my servants that they take No note at all of our being absent hence; Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.

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[A tucket sounds. 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 daylight
sick;

It looks a little paler: 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and
their followers.

Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 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, 130 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.

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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.
Gra. [To Ner.] 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,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.' 150
Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,

That you would wear it till your hour of death And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective and have kept it.

Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.

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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 youth, 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.

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To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
And so riveted 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, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

Bass. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off

And swear I lost the ring defending it.

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Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed
Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;
And neither man nor master would take aught
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 truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.

Nor I in yours

Ner. Till I again see mine.

Bass.

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring
And would conceive for what I gave the ring
And how unwillingly I left the ring,

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When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
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 pleased 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 my honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him
And suffer'd him to go displeased away;
Even he that did uphold the very life

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Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?

I was enforced to send it after him;
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.

220

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house:

Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
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
Argus:

If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

230

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well

advised

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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, 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. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.

Bass. 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.

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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 deserved it?
Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all
amazed:

Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:

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Ant.
Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you
not?
280
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.

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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.

300

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,

Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed- Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
fellow:

When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing

living:

So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt.

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SCENE I. Orchard of OLIVER's house.

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thou sand crowns, and, as thou sayest, 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 dunghills 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, 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.

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.

Enter OLIVER.

Oli.

Now, sir! what make you here?

Orl.

thing.

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SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar.
CORIN,

SILVIUS, shepherds.

WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with
Audrey.

A person representing Hymen.

ROSALIND, daughter to the banished duke.
CELIA, daughter to Frederick.
PHEBE, a shepherdess.

AUDREY, a country wench.

Lords, pages, and attendants, &c.

SCENE: Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the Forest of Arden.

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 employed, and be naught awhile.

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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?

me.

Orl.
Oli.
Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows
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!

O, sir, very well: here in your orchard.
Know you before whom, sir?

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

Ol. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; 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

Nothing: I am not taught to make any grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure

Oli. What mar you then, sir?

it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery

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