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Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 104 Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night 56 When every goose is cackling, would be thought Become the touches of sweet harmony.

No better a musician than the wron. Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven How many things by season season'd are Is thick inlaid with patinos of bright gold: To their right praise and true perfection! There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion, But in his motion like an angel sings, 61 And would not be awak'd! [Music ceases. Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;


That is the voice, Such harmony is in immortal souls;

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 64 Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

the cuckoo,

By the bad voice.
Enter Musicians.


Dear lady, welcome home. Come, hol and wake Diana with a hymn: Por. We have been praying for our husbands' With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, welfare, And draw her home with music. [Music. Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet Are they return'd? music.

69 Lor.

Madam, they are not yet; 116 Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: But there is come a messenger before, For do but note a wild and wanton herd, To signify their coming. Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 72 Por.

Go in, Nerissa: Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing Give order to my servants that they take loud,

No note at all of our being absent hence;
Which is the hot condition of their blood; Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you.
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,

[A tucket sounds. Or any air of music touch their ears,

76 Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, trumpet: Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet Por. This night methinks is but the daylight Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and sick; floods;

80 It looks a little paler: 'tis a day,
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,

Enter BAS3ANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,

their Followers. Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; 85 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, The motions of his spirit are dull as night, If you would walk in absence of the sun. And his affections dark as Erebus:

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,

And never be Bassanio so for me: Enter Portia and NERISSA, at a distance. But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to How far that little candle throws his beams!

133 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. This is the man, this is Antonio, Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see To whom I am so infinitely bound. the candle.

92 Por. You should in all sense be much bound Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: to him,

136 A substitute shines brightly as a king

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Until a king be by, and then his state

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Empties itself, as doth an inland brook

96 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

It must appear in other ways than words, Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect: Gra. [TO NERISSA.] By yonder moon I swear Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. you do me wrong;

Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:

Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 144 When neither is attended, and I think

Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.




my friend:

140 220


Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter? When naught would be accepted but the ring,

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring You would abate the strength of your displeasure. That she did give me, whose poesy was 148 Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, For all the world like cutlers' poetry

Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.' Or your own honour to contain the ring,

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? You would not then have parted with the ring.
You swore to me, when I did give it you, 152 What man is there so much unreasonable,
That you would wear it till your hour of death, If you had pleas'd to have defended it

And that it should lie with you in your grave: With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
You should have been respective and have kept it. Nerissa teaches me what to believe:
Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge, I'll die for 't but some woman had the ring. 208
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. No woman had it; but a civil doctor,
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, And begg'd the ring, the which I did deny him, A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,

And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away; 213 No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk. Even be that did uphold the very life A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee: 164 Ofmy dear friend. Whatshould I say, sweetlady? I could not for my heart deny it him.

I was enforc'd to send it after him;

216 Por. You were to blame,-I must be plain I was beset with shame and courtesy; with you,

My honour would not let ingratitude To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, For, by these blessed candles of the night, And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. 169 Had you been there, I think you would have I gave my love a ring and made him swear Never to part with it; and here he stands, The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth 173 house. That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gra- Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, 224 tiano,

And that which you did swear to keep for me, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: I will become as liberal as you; An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 176 I'll not deny him anything I have; Bass. (Aside.] Why, I were best to cut my No, not my body, nor my husband's bed. left hand off,

Know him I shall, I am well sure of it: And swear I lost the ring defending it.

Lienot a night from home; watch me like Argus: Gra My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away If you do not, if I be left alone, Into the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 180 Now by mine honour, which is yet mine own, 232 Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine; Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd And neither man nor master would take aught How you do leave me to mine own protection. But the two rings.

Gra. Well, do youso: letme not take him, then; Por. What ring gave you, my lord? 184 For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. 237 Not that, I hope, that you receiv'd of me. Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

quarrels. I would deny it; but you see my finger

Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

notwithstanding. Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed And in the hearing of these many friends, 241 Catil I see the ring.

I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Ner. Nor-I in yours,

Wherein I see myself, Till I again see mine.


Mark you but that! Bass.

Sweet Portia, 192 In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; 244 If you did know to whom I gave the ring, In each eye, one: swear by your double seif, If you did know for whom I gave the ring, And there's an oath of credit. And would conceive for what I gave the ring, Bass.

Nay, but hear me: And how unwillingly I left the ring, 196 | Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear



I never more will break an oath with thee. 248 I chanced on this letter.
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth, Ant.

I am dumb. Which, but for him that had your husband's Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you ring,


280 Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 252 cuckold? Will never more break faith advisedly.

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him

do it, this,

Unless he live until he be a man. And bid him keep it better than the other. Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow: Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep When I am absent, then, lie with my wife. 285 this ring.

256 Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and Bass. By heaven! it is the same I gave the living; doctor!

For here I read for certain that my ships
Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio, Are safely come to road.
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. 259


How now, Lorenzo! 283 Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a In lieu of this last night did lie with me.

fee. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high- There do I give to you and Jessica, ways

From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 292 In summer, where the ways are fair enough. 264 After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. What! are we cuckolds ere we have deserv'd it? Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all Of starved people. amaz'd:


It is almost morning, Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 296 It comes from Padua, from Bellario: 268 Of these events at full. Let us go in; There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, And charge us there upon inter'gatories, Nerissa, there, her clerk: Lorenzo bere

And we will answer all things faithfully. Shall witness I set forth as soon as you

Gra. Let it be so: the first inter’gatory 300 And even but now return'd; I have not yet 272 That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome; Whe'r till the next night she had rather stay, And I have better news in store for you

Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; But were the day come, I should wish it dark, There you shall find three of your argosies 276 That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Are richly come to harbour suddenly.

Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing

306 You shall not know by what strange accident So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt.





DIKE, living in exile.

SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a Vicar. FREDERICK, his Brother, Usurper of his Do CORIN,

Shepherds. minions.

AMENS, Lords attending upon the banished WILLIAM, a Country Fellow, in love with

LE BEAU, a Courtier, attending upon Frederick. A person representing Hymen.
CHARLES, a Wrestler.

ROSALIND, Daughter to the banished Duke.
JAQUES, Sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. CELIA, Daughter to Frederick.

PHEBE, a Shepherdess.
Servants to Oliver.

AUDREY, a Country Wench.

Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants. SCENE.—First, OLIVER'S Orchard near his House; afterwards, in the Usurper's Court,

and in the Forest of Arden.




Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear SCENE I.-An Orchard near OLIVER's House. how he will shake me up. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM,

Enter OLIVER. Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this Oli. Now, sirl what make you here? fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thou- Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make anysand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my thing. brother on his blessing, to breed me well: and Oli. What mar you then, sir?. there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that be keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly which God made, a poor unworthy brother of of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically yours, with idleness. at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be bere at home unkept; for call you that keeping naught awhile. for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; with them? What prodigal portion have I for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, spent, that I should come to such penury? they are taught their manage, and to that end Oli. Know you where you are, sir? riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain Orl. 01 sir, very well: here in your orchard. Dothing under him but growth, for the which Oli. Know you before whom, sir? his animals on his dunghills are as much bound Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in plentifully gives me, the sometbing that nature the gentle condition of blood, you should so gave me, his countenance seems to take from know me. The courtesy of nations allows you tre: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the my better, in that you are the first born; but place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, the same tradition takes not away my blood, mines my gentility with my education. This is were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have IL Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I father, which I think is within me, begins to confess, your coming before me is nearer to his mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer reverence. endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy Oli. What, boy! bors to avoid it.

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. young in this.




I 20


Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? 59 Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's

Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son daughter, be banished with her father? of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and Cha. 0, no; for the duke's daughter, her he is thrice a villain that says such a father cousin, so loves her,-being ever from their begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I cradles bred together,—that she would have would not take this hand from thy throat till followed her exile, or have died to stay behind this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of so: thou hast railed on thyself.

66 her uncle than his own daughter; and never two Adam. [Coming forward.] Sweet masters, be ladies loved as they do. patient: for your father's remembrance, be at Oli. Where will the old duke live? accord.

Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Oli. Let me go, I say.

70 Arden, and a many merry men with him; and Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear there they live like the old Robin Hood of me. My father charged you in his will to give England. They say many young gentlemen flock me good education: you have trained me like to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all as they did in the golden world. gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure new duke? it; therefore allow me such exercises as may be- Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint come a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to my father left me by testament; with that I will understand that your younger brother Orlando go buy my fortunes.

80 hath a disposition to come in disguised against Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be my credit, and he that escapes me without some troubled with you; you shall have some part of broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother your will: I pray you, leave me.

84 is but young and tender; and, for your love, I Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes would be loath to foil him as I must, for my me for my good.

own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you

Adam. Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, withal, that either you might stay him from his I have lost my teeth in your service. God be intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he with my old master! he would not have spoke shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own such a word. [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM. search and altogether against my will.

Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! I had myself notice of my brother's purpose

herein, and have by underhand means laboured Enter DENNIS,

to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I'll Den. Calls your worship?

95 tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young Oli. Was not Charles the duke's wrestler here fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious to speak with me?

emulator of every man's good parts, a secret Den. So please you, he is here at the door, I and villanous contriver against me his natural and importunes access to you.

brother: therefore use thy discretion. I had as Oli. Call him in. [Exit DENNIS.] 'Twill be lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him

any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily Enter CHARLES.

grace himself on thee, he will practise against Cha. Good morrow to your worship. 102 thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous

Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en news at the new couri?

thy life by some indirect means or other; for, Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but I assure thee, -and almost with tears I speak the old news: that is, the old duke is banished it, there is not one so young and so villanous by his younger brother the new duke; and three this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; or four loving lords have put themselves into but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, i voluntary exile with him, whose lands and re must blush and weep, and thou must look pale venues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives and wonder.

167 them good leave to wander.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you.



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