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In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk :

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away:

For. A quarrel, hó, already? what's the inatter ? Even he that had held up the very life Gra. Abot a houp of gold, a paltry ring Of my dear friend. Whai should I say, sweet lady? Thit she did give me; whose posy was

I was enforc'd to send it alier him; For all the world, like cutler's poetry

I was beset with shame and courtesy ; Upon a knile, Love me, and leave me not.

My honour would not let ingratitude Ner. Whai talk you of the posy, or the value ? So much besmear it: Pardoo me, good lady; You swore to me, when I did give it you, For, by these blessed candies of the night, Thil vou would wear it till your hour of death; Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'd And that it should lie with you in your grave: The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my You should have been respective,' and have kept it.

house: Give 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 And that which you did swear to keep for me, had it.

I will become as liberal as you :
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. I'll not deny him any thing I have,
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,- Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,

Lie not a night froin hoine; watch me like Argus: No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; If you do not, if I be left alone, A prating boy, that beggd it as a see;

Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, I could not for my heart deny it him.

l'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, To part so slightly with your wife's lirst gist; How you do leave me to mine own protection. A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, Gra. Well, do you so: let noi me take him then; And riveted so with faith unto your nesh. For, if I do, i'll mar the young clerk's pen. I give my love a ring, and made him swear Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Never to part with it; and here he stands; Por. Sir, grieve not you ; You are welcomo I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,

no withstanding. Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth Bass. Portia, forgive me ihis enforc'd wrong; That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, And, in the hearing of these many friends, You give your wise too unkind a cause of griel; I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, An'lwere to me, I should be mad at it.

Wherein I see myself,Bass. Why, I'were best to cut my left hand off,

Por.

Mark you but that! And swear, I lost the ring defending it. (Aside. In bo'h my eyes he doubly sees himself:

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away In each eye one :-swear by your double sell, Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, And there's an oath of credit. Doserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk,

Bass.

Nay, but hear me: That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine: Pardon this fault, and by my soul 1 swear, And neither man, nor master, would take aught I never more will break an oath with thee. But the two rings.

Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth; Por.

What ring gave you, my lord ? Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.

[To Portia. Buss. If I could add a lie unto a fault, Had quite miscarried: 1 dare be bonnd again, I would deny it; but you see my finger

Mv soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.

Will never more break faith advisedlv. Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him this; By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed

And bid him keep it better than the other. Until I see the ring.

Ant. Herc, lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this Ner. Nor I in yours,

ring. Till I again see mine.

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! Bass. Sweet Portia,

Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio; If you did know to whom I gave the ring, For by this ring the doctor lay with me. If you did know for whom I gave the ring,

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; And would conceive for what I gave the ring,

For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, And how unwillingly I left the ring,

In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. When nought would be accepted but the ring, Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways You would'abate the strength of your displeasure. In summer, where the ways are fair

enough: Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserved it? Or hall her worthiness that gave the ring,

Por. Speak not so grossly.—You are all amaz'd: Or your own honour to contain the ring,

Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; You would not then have parted with the ring. It comes from Padua, from Bellario: What man is there so much unreasonable, There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor; If you had pleas'd to have defended it,

Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty

Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?

And but even now return'd; I have not yet Nerissa teaches me what to believe;

Enter'd my house.--Antonio, you are welcome; I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring.

And I have better news in store for you, Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, Than you expect : unseal this letter soon; No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

There you shall, three of your argosies

Are richly come to harbour suddenly: (1) Regardful. (2) Advantago You shall not know by what strange accident

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I chanced on this letter.

And charge us there upon intergatories,
Ant.
I am dumb.

And we will answer all things faithfully. Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you Gra. Let it be so: The first intergatory, not?

That iny Nerissa shall be sworn on, is, Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me Whether till the next night she had rather stay; cuckold ?

Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : Ver. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, But were the day come, I should wish it dark, Unless he live until he be a man.

That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. Biss. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing When I am absent, then lie with my wife. So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and

(Exeunt. living; For here I read for certain, that my ships Are safely come to road. How now, Lorenzo ?

or the Merchant of Venice the style is even and M: clerk hath some good comforts too sor you. Ver. Ay, and I'll give them him without a of construction. The comic part raises laughter,

casy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies fee.

and the serious fixes expectation. The probability There do I give to you, and Jessica,

of either one or the other story cannot be main. From the rich Jew, a special deed of gist, tained. The union of two actions in one event is Aner his death, of all he dies possess'd of. in this drama eminently happy. Dryden was Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way much pleased with his own address in connecting of tarved people. It is almost morning,

the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, 1

believe, the critic will ånd excelled by this play. And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied Of these events at full: Let us go in;

JOHNSON.

Por.

Por.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duke, living in exile.

William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. Frederick, brother to the Duke, and usurper of A person representing Hymen,

his dominions. Amiens, ļ lords attending upon the Duke in his Jaques,' } banishment.

Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke. Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Frederick.

Celia, daughter to Frederick, Charles, his wrestler,

Phebe, a shepherdess.
Oliver,

Audrey, a country wench,
Jaques, sons of sir Rowland de Bois.
Orlando,

Lords belonging to the twoo Dukes; pages, foresters,
Adam,
Dennis,
servants to Oliver,

and other attendants. Touchstone, a clown. Sir Oliver Mar-text, a vicar.

The Scene lies, first, near Oliver's house; after

wards, partly in the usurper's court, and partly in the forest of Arden.

Sylvius

, } shepherds.

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ACT 1.

Oli. What mar you then, sir?

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that SCENE I.-An orchard, near Oliver's house. which God made, a poor unworthy brother of Enter Orlando and Adam.

yours, with idleness. Orlando,

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be

naught a while. As I remeinber, Adam, it was upon this fashion Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I crowns; and, as thou say’st, charged my brother, should come to such penury ? on his blessing, to breed me well and there be

Oli. Know you where you are, sir ? gins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at Or!. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard. school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit :

Oli. Know you before whom, sir ? for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to

Orl. Ay, beiter than he I am before knows me. speak more properly, stays me here at home un. I know you are my eldest brother, and, in the genkept: For call you that keeping for a «entleman le condition of blood, you should so know me: of my birth, thai differs not from the stalling of an The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that that you are the first-born; but ihe same tradition they are fair with their feeding, they are taught takes not away my blood, were there twenty brotheir manage, and to that end riders dearly hired : thers betwixt us : I have as much of my father in but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but me, as you ; albeit, I confess, your coming before growih; for the which his animals on his dung. me is nearer to his reverencc. hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this 01. What, boy! nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the some

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are loo thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems young in this: to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds,

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as

Orl. I am no villain :: I am the youngest son of in hiın lies, mines my gentility with my education. sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he This is it, 'Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit is thrice a villain, that says, such a father bepot of my father, which I think is within me, begins villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not to muliny a rainst this servitude: I will no longer take this hand from thy throat, till this other had endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how pulled out thy tongue for saying so ; thou hast rail. to avoid it.

ed on thyself. Enter Oliver,

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your fa. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.

ther's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. he will shake me up:

My father charged you in his will to give me good Oli. Now, sir! what make you here ?" education: you have trained me like a peasant, obOrl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. scuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like (1) What do you here?

qualities: the spirit of my father grows strorg in (2) Villain is used in a double sense ; by Oliver me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow for a worthless fellow, and by Oslapdo for a man give me the poor allottery my father left me bytes

me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or of base extraction.

a

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. l'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 villanous Orl. I will no lurther offend you than becomes contriver against me his natural brother; thereme for my good.

fure use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.

break his neck as his finger: And thou wert best Alam. Iš old dog my reward ? Most true, I look to't; for is thơu dost him any slight disgrace, bave lost my teeth in your servic:—God be with or if he do not mightily grace himself on thec, he my old master, he would not have spoke such a will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by word.

(Exeunt Orlando ani Adam. some treacherous device, and never leave thee till 0!i. Is it even so ? bagin you to grow upon me?'he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou- other: for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I sand crowns neither.-Holla, Dennis !

speak it, there is not onc so young and so villanous Enter Dennis. this day living. I speak but brotherly of him

as , i Den. Calls your worship?

must blush and weep, and thou inust look pale Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here and wonder. to speak with me?

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and if he come tu-morrow, I'll give him his payment: importunes access to you.

If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for Oli

. Call him in. (Erit Dennis.]—"Twill be a prize more: And so, God keep your worship! good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.

[Eril. Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir Enter Charles.

this gamester:2 'I hope, I shall see an end of him; Cha. Good morrow to your worship.

for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing Oli. Good monsieur Charles ! what's the new more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, news at the new court ?

and yet learned ; full of noble device; of all sortsá Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the enchantingly beloved; and, indeed,' so much in old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his the heart of the world, and especially of my own younger brother the new dake; and three or four people, who best know him, that I am altogether loving lords have put themselves into voluntary misprized: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich shall clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave the boy thither, which now I'll go about. (Exil. to wander.

SCENE II.-A Inwn before the Duke's palace. Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh

Enter Rosalind and Celia. ter, be banished with her father?

Cha, 0, no ; for the dike's daughter, her cousin, Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 30 loves her, -being ever from their cradles bred merry. together,-that she would have followed her exile, Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am or have died to stay behind her. She is at the mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his Unless you could teach me to forget a banished own daughter; and never two ladies loved as father, you must not learn me how to remember they do.

any extraordinary pleasure. Oli. Where will the old duke live?

Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the Cia. They say, he is already in the forest or full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy baArden, and a miny merry men with him; and nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke there they live like the old Robin Hood of England : my father, so thou hads't been still with me, I could they say, miny young gentlemen flock to him every have taucht my love to take thy father for mine ; dav; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in so would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me the golden world.

were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es. ne i duke?

tate, to rejoice in yours. Chi. Marry, do 1, sir; and I came to acquaint Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, yo'l with a matter.' I am given, sir, secreily to nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, understand, that your youn rer brother, Orlando, thou shalt be his heir :' for what he ha'h taken huh a disposition to come in discuir'd a crainst me away from thy father perforce, I will render thee to try a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my again in affection ; by mine honour, I will; and credit: and he that escapes me without some bro- when I break that vath, let me turn monster : thereken limb shall arquit him well. Your brother is fore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. but voung, and tender; and, for your love, I would Ros. From henceforih I will, coz, and devise be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, sports: let me see; What think you of falling in if he come in : therefore, out of my love to you, I love? came hither to acquaint you withal; that eiher Cel. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal: pou might stay him from his intendment, or brook but love no man in good earnes ; nor no further in sich disgrace well as he shall run into;' in that it :port neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou is a laing of his own search, and altogether against inarist in honour come off again. my will.

Ros. What shall be our sport then? Oli. Charles, I think thee for thv love to me, Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifs may hencehad myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, forth be bestowed equally. (1) A ready assent. (2) Frolicksome fellow.

(3) Or all ranks.

Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits Ros. As wit and fortune will. are mightily misplaced : and the bountifui blind Touch. Or as the destinies decree. woman duth musi mistake in her gills io women. Cel. Well said ; that was laid on with a trowel.

('ch 'Tis true : for those, that she makes fair, she Touch. Nay, i 'I kecp not my rank, scarce makes nonesi; ana inose, that she mikes Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. honest, she makes very ni-lavour'dly.

Le Beau. You amaze: me, ladies: I would hare Rus. Nay, now ihun goest froin fortune's office told you of good wrestling, which you have lust the to nature's : fortune reiylis in pills of the woriu, si hi of. not in the lineaments of nature.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Enter Touchstone.

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it

please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair crea- best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they ture, may she not by fortune fail into the fire !- are coming to perform it. Though nature hath given us wit to tlout at for- Cel. Well, -ihe beginning, that is dead and tune, hath noi furtune sent in this fool to cut oft buried. the argument ?

Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature ; three solis, when furtune makes nature's natural the cutter of Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. of nature's wit.

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent Cel. Pei adventure, this is not fortune's work growth and presence; neither, but nalure's; who perceiving our natural Ros. With bills on their necks,- Be it known wils loo dull to reason of such goduesses, hath sent unto all men by these presents. this natural for our whetstone: for always the dull- Le Beau, The eldest of the three wrestled with ness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-llow Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a now, wit? whither wander you?

moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, Touch. Mistress, you inust come away to your that there is little hope of life in him: so he served father.

the second, and so the third : Yonder they lie; the Cel. Were you made the messenger ?

poor old man, their father, making such pitiful Touch. No, by mine honour ; but I was bid to dole over them, that all the beholders take his part come for you.

with weeping: Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool ?

Ros. Alas! Touch. Or a certain knight, that swore by his Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his the ladies have lost ? honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. it is the first time that ever I heard, breaking of Cel

. How prove you that, in the great heap of ribs was sport for ladies. your knowledge ?

Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broke

Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. rib-breaking ?—Shall we see this wrestling, cousin ?

Cel. By our beards, it' we had them, thou art. Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for hero

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: is the place appois.ted for the wrestling, and they but if you swear by that that is not, you are not are ready to perform it. forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he stay and see it. had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando, Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou mean'st?

Charles, and attendants,
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him.-

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whippa entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. for taxation, one of these days.

Ros. Is yonder the man ? Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak

Le Beani. Eren he, madam. wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. Alas, he is too young : yet he looks sacCel. By iny troth, thou say'st true : for since the cessfully. little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin ? aro foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show. ycu crept hither to see the wrestling? Here comes monsieur Le Beau.

Ros. Ay, my liege? so please you give us leare.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can Enter Le Beau.

tell you, there is such odds in the men : In pily of Ros. With his mouth full of news.

the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, Çel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed but he will not be entreated : Speak to him, ladies :

see if you can move him. Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. Call him hither, good monsieur Le Bcau. Cel. All the better; we shall be the more mar

Duke F. Do so; I'll not be by, ketable. Bon jour, monsieur Le Beau: What's

(Duke goes aparl. the news ?

Le Bemi. Monsieur the challenger, the prinLe Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much cesses call for you. good sport.

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Cel. of what colour ?

Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I the wrestler ? unswer you?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general chal

lenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with (1) Satire. (2) Perplex, confuse. him the strength of my youth.

their young.

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