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And ceremoniously let us prepare
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Musick! hark !
Ner. It is your musick, madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect ; Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola!
Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Lor. Who calls ?
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, mistress Lorenzo ? sola, sola!
When neither is attended; and, I think, Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, Laun. Sola! where? where?
When every goose is cackling, would be thought Lor. Here.
No better a musician than the wren. Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my How many things by season season'd are master, with his horn full of good news; my master To their right praise, and true perfection! will be here ere morning.
[Erit. Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their And would not be awak'd! [Musick ceases. coming.
That is the voice, And yet no matter; — Why should we go in? Or I am much deceiv'd of Portia. My friend Stepháno, signify, I pray you,
Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the Within the house, your mistress is at hand :
cuckoo, And bring your musick forth into the air.
By the bad voice. [Exit STEPHANO.
Dear lady, welcome home. How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank ! Por. We have been praying for our husbands' Here will we sit, and let the sounds of musick
welfare, Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Become the touches of sweet harmony,
Are they return'd? Sit, Jessica ; Look how the floor of heaven
Madam, they are not yet ; Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ;
But there is come a messenger before,
Go in, Nerissa, Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins :
Give order to my servants, that they take Such harmony is in immortal souls;
No note at all of our being absent hence; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Nor you, Lorenzo ; — Jessica, nor you. Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
[A tucket sounds.
Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet: Enter Musicians.
We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
sick. And draw her home with musick.
It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day, Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet musick.
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
[Musick. Lor. The reason is your spirits are attentive:
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Followers. Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, Fetching mail bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, If you would walk in absence of the sun. Which is the hot condition of their blood ;
Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, For a light wife doth n ike a heavy husband, Or any air of musick touch their ears,
And never be Bassanio so for me ; Tou shall perceive them make a mutual stand, But God sort all! - You are welcome home, my Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze,
lord. By the sweet power of musick : Therefore, the poet Bass. I thank you, madam : give welcome to my Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and
This is the man, this is Antonio, Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, To whom I am so infinitely bound. But musick for the time doth change his nature : Por. You should in all sense be much bound to The man that hath no musick in himself,
him, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : And his affections dark as Erebus :
It must appear in other ways than words, Let no such man be trusted. Mark the musick.
Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.
(GRATIANO and Nerissa seem to talk apart. Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance.
Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong, Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall. In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk : How far that little candle throws his beams! Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the Por. A quarrel, ho, already ? what's the matter i candle.
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
For all the world, like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me nuol.
Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? My honour would not let ingratitude You swore to me, when I did give it you,
So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady ; That you would wear it till your hour of death; For by these blessed candles of the night, And that it should lie with you in your grave : Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'd Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. You should have been respective, and have kept it. Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: Gave it a judge's clerk! - but well I know, Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it. And that which you did swear to keep for me, Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
I will become as liberal as you;
I'll not deny him any thing I have,
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it :
Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus; A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ;
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own,
Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd,
Gra. Well do you so: let not me take him then; 1 gave my love a ring, and made him swear For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Never to part with it; and here he stands;
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Por Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notYor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Mark you but that!
In each eye one: - swear by your double self, Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy, his clerk,
And there's an oath of credit. That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine : Bass.
Nay, but hear me : And neither man, nor master, would take aught Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, But the two rings.
I never more will break an oath with thee. Por.
What ring gave you, my lord ? Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
[To Portia. I would deny it; but you see, my finger
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. Will never more break faith advisedly. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give him this; Until I see the ring.
And bid him keep it better than the other.
Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this Till I again see mine.
ring. Bass. Sweet Portia,
Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio; If you did know for whom
gave the ring,
For by this ring the doctor lay with me. And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; And how unwillingly I left the ring,
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, When naught would be accepted but the ring, In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. You would abate the strength of your displeasure. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high-way3
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, In summer, where the ways are fair enough : Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it ? Or your own honour to contain the ring,
Por. Speak not so grossly. – You are all amaz’d: You would not then have parted with the ring. Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; What man is there so much unreasonable,
It comes from Padua, from Bellario : If you had pleas'd to have defended it
There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor ; With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
And but even now return'd; I have not yet I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome ;
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, | And I have better news in store for you,
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ;
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter. Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? Ant.
I am dumb. I was enforc'd to send it after him ;
Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew voie I was beset with shame and courtesy :
Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me Lm. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way cuckold ?
Of starved people. Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, Por.
It is almost morning, Unless he live until he be a man.
And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; Of these events at full: Let us go in ; When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
And charge us there upon intergatories, Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and And we will answer all things faithfully. living ;
Gra. Let it be so; The first intergatory, For here I read for certain, that my ships
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is, Are safely come to road.
Whether till the next night she had rather stay ; Por. How now, Lorenzo ? Or
go to bed now, being two hours to-day : My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. There do I give to you, and Jessica,
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. ( Ereunt. After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
DUXE, living in erile.
Sir Oliver MAR-TEXT, a vicar. FREDERICK, brother to the Duke, and usurper of his Corin,
dominions. Anexs, Lords attending upon the Duke in his William, a country fellow, in love with Auarey. JAQUES, S banishment.
A Person representing Hymen.
Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke.
CELIA, daughter to Frederick. JAQUES, sons of Sir Rowland de Bois.
Puebe, a shepherdess. 0
AUDREY, a country wench. ADAN,
servants to Oliver. DexxIS,
Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; Pages, Foresters, TOUCHSTONE, a clown.
and other A:tendants. The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House ; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and parily in the
Forest of ARDEN.
SCENE I. - An Orchard, near Oliver's House.
Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.
Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear low Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fa- he will shake me up. shion bequeathed me : By will, but a poor thousand Oli. Now, sir ! what make you here? crowns : and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any on his blessing, to breed me well : and there begins thing. my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, Oli. What mar you then, sir ? and report speaks goldenly of his profit : for my Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, more properly, stays me here at home unkept : For with idleness. call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be naught that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His awhile. horses are bred better; for, besides that they are Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, them ? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I and to that end riders dearly hired : but I, his bro- should come to such penury ? ther, gain nothing under him but growth; for the Oli. Know you where you are, sir ? which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound Orl. 0, sir, very well : here in your orchard. to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plenti- Oli. Know you before whom, sir ? fully gives me, the something that nature gave me, Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me I know, you are my eldest brother ; and, in the genfeed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, tle condition of blood, you should so know me :and, as much as in bim lies, mines my gentility with The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; that you are the first-born ; but the same tradition and the spirit of my father, which I think is within takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will betwixt us : I have as much of my father in me, is no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise re- you ; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is medy hor to avoid it.
nearer to his reverence.
young in this
Oli. What, boy!
they say many young gentlemen flock to him every Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the
golden world. Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?
Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Orl. I am no villain : I am the youngest son of duke? sir Rowland de Bois: he was iny father; and he Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint is thrice a villain, that says, such a father begot vil- you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to lains : Wert thou not my brother, I would not take derstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath this hand from thy throat, till this other had pulled a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast railed on a fall : To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; thyself.
and he that escapes me without some broken limb, Allan. Sweet masters, be patient; for your fa- shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young ther's remembrance, be at accord.
and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath Oli. Let me go, I say.
to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall hear ine. in : therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither My father charged you in his will to give me good to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay education : you have trained me like a peasant, ob- him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace scuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qua- well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his lities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, own search, and altogether against my will. and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I give me the poor allotery my father left me by tes- had myself notice of my brother's purpose lierein, tament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is him from it; but he is resolute.
I'll tell thee, spent ? Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of troubled with you : you shall have some part of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of your will: I pray you, leave me.
every man's good parts, a secret and villainous conOrl. I will no further offend you than becomes triver against me his natural brother; therefore use me for my good.
thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
neck as his ringer : And thou wert best look to't. Alam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old not mighti'; grace himself on thee, he will practise master! he would not have spoke such a word. against thee by poison, entrap thee by some trea
(E.reunt ORLANDO and ADAM. cherous device, and never leave thee till he hath Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me? ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I will physick your rankness, and yet give no thou- I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there sand crowns neither, Holla, Dennis !
is not one so young and so villainous this day living,
I speak but brotherly of him ; but should I anatoEnter DENNIS.
mise him to thee as he is, I must blush and weey, Den. Calls your worship?
and thou must look pale and wonder. Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you : If to speak with me.
he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: lf Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize importunes access to you.
more: And so, God keep your worship! [Eri. Oli. Call him in. (Eril Dennis.] — 'Twill be a Oli. Farewell. good Charles. Now will I stir good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him;
for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing Enter CHARLES.
more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and Cha. Good morrow to your worship.
yet learned ; full of noble device; of all sorts enOli. Good monsieur Charles ! - what's the new chantingly beloved ; and, indeed, so much in the news at the new court?
heart of the world, and especially of my own people, Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the who best know him, that I am altogether misprised : old news : that is, the old duke is banished by his but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear younger brother the new duke; and three or four all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy loving lords have put themselves into voluntary thither, which now I'll go about.
(Eri. exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to SCENE II. · A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. wander. Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's dauglı
Enler ROSALIND and CELIA. ter, be banished with her father ?
Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, bu Cha. 0, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, merry. so loves her,- being ever from their cradles bred Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am together, that she would have followed her exile, mistress of'; and would you yet I were merrier? or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, Unless you could teach me to forget a Iranished fa and no less beloved of her uncle than his own ther, you must not learn me how to remember any daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. extraordinary pleasure. Oli. Where will the old duke live?
Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the Chn. They say, he is already in the forest of Ar- full weight that I love thee : if my uncle, thy baden, and a many merry men with him; and there nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke iny they live like the old Robin Hood of England : | father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could