Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. There do I give to you, and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, Por. It is almost morning, And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied Of these events at full: Let us go in; And charge us there upon intergatories, And we will answer all things faithfully. Gra. Let it be so: The first intergatory That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay; Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: But were the day come, I should wish it dark, That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt. Of THE MERCHANT OF VENICE the style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construction. The comick part raises laughter, and the serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of two actions in one event is in this drama evidently happy. Dryden was much pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his SPANISH FRIAR, which yet, I believe, the critick will find excelled by this play. JOHNSON. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Duke, living in exile. FREDERICK, brother to the Duke, and usurper of his dominions. AMIENS, Lords attending upon the Duke in his JAQUES, banishment. LE BEAU, a Courtier, attending upon Frederick. OLIVER, WILLIAM, a country Fellow, in love with Audrey. ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke. CELIA, daughter to Frederick. PHEBE, 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; afterwards, partly in the USURPER'S COURT, and partly in the Forest of Arden. AS YOU LIKE IT. ACT I. SCENE I.—An Orchard, near Oliver's House. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Orlando. 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. 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. 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? 1 Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, sir? 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. 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. 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 1 What do you here? |