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Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? And know how well I have deserv'd this ring,
Gra. A halter gratis ; nothiug else, for God's sake. She would not hold out enemy for ever,
Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court, For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
To quit the fine for one half of his goods;

(Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. I am content, so he will let me have

Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring; The other half in use, --to render it,

Let his deservings, and my love withal, Upon his death, unto the gentleman,

Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment ! That lately stole his daughter :

Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him, Two things provided more,-that, for this favour, Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou can'st, He presently become a Christian ;

Unto Antonio's house:-away, make haste ! The other, that he do record a gift,

(Exit Gratiano. Here in the court, of all he dies possessid,

Come, you and I will thither presently; Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter.

And in the morning early will we both
Duke. He shall do this; or else I do recant

Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio ! (E.reunt.
The pardon that I late pronounced here,
Por. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou way?

SCENE II. The same. A Street.
Shy. I am content.

Enter PORTIA and Nerissa.
Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift!

Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed,
Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; And let him sign it; we'll away to-night,
I am not well; send the deed after me,

And be a day before our husbands home:
And I will sign it.

This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Duke. Get thee gone, but do it!
Gra. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers :

Enter GratianO.
Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more, Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken :
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. My lord Bassanio, upon more advice,

[Exit Shylock. Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat
Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. Your company at dinner.
Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon ; Por. That cannot be:
I must away this night toward Padua,

This ring I do accept most thankfully,
And it is meet I presently set forth.

And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, Duke. I am sorry, that your leisure serves you not.— I pray yon show my youth old Shylock's house. Antonio, gratify this gentleman ;

Gra. That will I do. For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. Ner. Sir, I would speak with you: [Exeunt Duke, Magnificoes, and Train. I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,

(To Portia. Bass. Most worthy gentlemen, I and my friend Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted

Por. Thou may'st, I warrant; we shall have old Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,

swearing, Three thousand ducats, due anto the Jew,

That they did give the rings away to men;
We freely cope your courteous pains withal. But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.
Ant. And stand indebted, over and above,

Away, make haste; thou know'st, where I will tarry.
In love and service to yon evermore.

Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?
Por. He is well paid, that is well satisfied;

[Exeunt.
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid ;
My mind was never yet more mercenary:

A CT V.
I pray you, know me, when we meet again;

SCENEI.-Belmont. Avenue to Portia's house.
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

Enter Lorenzo and Jessica.
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: Lor. The moon shines bright. - In such a night as
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,

this,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

And they did make no noise; in such a nights
Por. You press me far, and therefore will yield. Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,
Give me your gloves ! I'll wear them for your sake; And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you: Where Cressid lay that night.
Do not draw back your land ; I'll take no more;

Jes. In such a night,
And you in love shall not deny me this.

Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew; Bass. This ring, good sir,-alas, it is a trifle; And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, I will not shame myself to give you this.

And ran dismay'd away. Por. I will have nothing else but only this;

Lor. In such a night, And now, methinks, I have a mind to it.

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Bass. There's more depends on this, than on the Upon the wild sca-banks, and war'd her love value.

To come again to Carthage. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,

Jes. In such a night, Aud find it out by proclamation ;

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs, Only for this, I pray you pardon me.

That did renew old Aeson.
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in ofers :

Lor. In such a night,
You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew;
You teach me, how a beggar should be answer'd. And with an anthrift love did run from Venice,
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; As far as Belmont.
And, when she pat it on, she made me vow,

Jes. And in such a night,
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;
Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
An if your wife be not a mad woman,

And ne'er a true one.

Lor. And in such a night,

But music for the time doth change his nature. Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,

The man that hath no music in himself,
Slander her love, and he forgaveit her.

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come: Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.

The motions of his spirit are dullas night,

And his affections dark as Erebus :
Enter STEPHANO.

Let no such man be trusted !-Mark the music!
Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.

Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance. Lor. A friend? what friend ? your name I pray you, Por. That light, we see, is burning in my hall. friend?

How far that little candle thraws his beams ! Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word, So shines a good deed in a naughty world, My mistress will before the break of day

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about

candle. By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less : For happy wedlock hours.

A substitute shines brightly as a king, Lor. Who comes with her ?

Until a king beby; and then his state
Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
I pray you, is my master yet return'd ?

Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,

Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;
And ceremoniously let us prepare

Methiuks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Some welcome for the mistress of the house!

Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, Enter LAUNCELOT.

When neither is attended ; and, I think, Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola!

The nightingale, if she should sing by day, Lor. Who calls ?

When every goose is cackling, would be thought Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and mis- No better a musician, than the wren. tress Lorenzo ? sola, sola!

How many things by season season'd are Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here.

To their right praise, and true perfection! Laun. Sola! where? where?

Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, Lor. Here.

And would not be awak'd!

[Music ceases. Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my master, Lor. That is the voice, with his horn full of good news;my master will be here Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. ere morning.

(Exit. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their cuckoo, coming

By the bad voice. And yet no matter :-why should we go in?

Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. My friend Stepháno, signify, I pray you,

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' Within the house, your mistress is at hand;

welfare, And bring your music forth into the air.

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.

(Exit Stephano. Are they return’d?
How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank! Lor. Madam, they are not yet;
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music

But there is come a messenger before,
Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, To signify their coming.
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Por. Goin, Nerissa,
Sit, Jessica! Look, how the floor of heaven Give order to my servants, that they take
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;

No note at all of our being absent hence;-
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st; Nor you, Lorenzo ;-—Jessica, nor you!
But in his motion likean angel sings,

[A tucket sounds. Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins :

Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet : Such harmony is in immortal souls;

Weure no tell-tales, madam; fear you

not! But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay

Por. This night, methinks, is but the day-light sick, Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day,

Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter Musicians.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;

Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their Fola With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,

lowers. And draw her home with music!

Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. If you would walk in absence of the sun.

[Music. Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, For do but note a wild and wanton herd,

And never be Bassanio so for me; Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,

But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord. Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my Which is the hot condition of their blood;

friend !If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,

This is the man, this is Antonio, Or any air of music touch their ears,

To whom I am so infinitely bound.
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Por. You shonld in all sense be much bound to him;
Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze,

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
By the sweet power of music: therefore, the poet Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of.
Did feign, that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, It must appear in other ways than words,

Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
(Gratiano and Nerissa seem to talk apart. Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong. And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him,
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:

And sutler'd him to godispleas'd away;
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,

Even he that had held up the very life Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter? I was enforc'd to send it after him; Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring,

I was beset with shame and courtesy; That she did give me; whose posy was,

My honour would not let ingratitude For all the world, like cutler's poetry

So much besmear it! Pardon me, good lady; Upon a knife, Loveine, and leave me not.

For, by these blessed candles of the night, Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? Had you been there, I think, you would have begged You swore to me when I did give it you,

Thering of'me to give the worthy doctor. That you would wear it till your hour of death; Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: And that it should lie with you in your grave:

Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, And that which you did swear to keep for me, You should have been respective, and have kept it.

I will become as liberal as you ;
Gave it a judge's clerk!—but well I know,

I'll not deny him any thing I have,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it. No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.

Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.

Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus: Gra. Now by this hand, I gave it to a youth, If you do not, if I be left alone, A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,

Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk;

I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. A prating boy, that begg’d it as a fee;

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advised, I could not for my heart deny it him.

How you do leave me to mine own protection. Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, Gra. Well, do you so : let not me take him then; To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. And riveted so with faith unto your flesh.

Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithI gave my love a ring, and made him swear

standing. Never to part with it; and here he stands:

Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, And, in the hearing of these many friends,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth

I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, Wherein I see myself,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; Por. Mark you but that!
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

both my eyes he doubly sees himself:
Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, In each eye one: - swear by your double self,
And swear I lost the ring defending it. (Aside. And there's an oath of credit.
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away,

Bass. Nay, but hear me:
Unto the judge, that begg'd it, and, indeed, Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
Deserv'dit too: and then the boy, his clerk,

I never more will break an oath with thee.
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine: Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth;
And neither man, nor master, would take anght Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
But the two rings.

[To Portia. Por. What ring gave you, my lord ?

Had quite miscarried : Idare be bound again, Not that, I hope, which yon receiv'd of me.

My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

Will never more break faith advisedly. I would deny it; but you see, my finger

Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

And bid him keep it better than the other : Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. Ant. Here, lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring! By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed,

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! Until I see the ring.

Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; Ner. Nor Iin yours,

For by this ring the doctor lay with me. Till I again see mine.

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; Bass. Sweet Portia,

For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, If you did know, to whom I gave the ring,

In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. If you did know, for whom I gave the ring

Gra. Why, thisis like the mending of high-ways And would conceive, for what I gave the ring, In summer, where the ways are fair enough: And how unwillingly I left the ring,

What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it? When naught would be accepted but the ring, Por. Speak not so grossly!-- You are all amaz’d: You would abate the strength of your displeasure. Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;

Por. If you had known the virtne of the ring, tcomes from Padua, from Bellario:
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,

There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor; Or your own honour to contain the ring,

Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here You would not then have parted with the ring. Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you, What man is there so much unreasonable,

And but even now return'd; I have not yet If you had pleas'd to have defended it

Enter'd my house.—Antonio, you are welcome; With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty

And I have better news in store for you, To urge the thing held as a ceremony?

Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; Nerissa teaches me what to believe;

There you shall find, three of your argosies
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.

Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my sonl, You shall not know, by what strange accident

you

I chanced on this letter.

After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
Ant. I am dumb.

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Bass. Were yon the doctor, and I knew you not? Of starved people.
Gra. Were the clerk, that is to make me cuckold? Por. It is almost morning,
Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Unless he live until he be a man.

Of these events at full. Let us goin;
Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; And charge us there upon intergatories,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

And we will answer all things faithfully. Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; Gra. Let it be so. The first interogatory 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. [Exeunt.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

persons of the ra m a. Duke, living in exile.

Touchstone, a clown. Frederick, brother to the Duke, and usurper of his Sir Oliver Mar-Text, a vicar.

dominions. Amers, Lords attending upon the Duke in his ba- Sorpres

, shepherds. JAQUES, S nishment.

William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Frederick. A person representing Hymen. CHARLES, his wrestler.

Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke. OLIVER,

Celia, daughter to Frederick. JAQUES, sons of Sir Rowland de Bois.

Prebe, a shepherdess. ORLANDO,

AUDREY, a country wench. Adam,

Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; Pages, ForesServants to Oliver. Dennis,

ters, 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.

}

Enter OLIVER.
A C Τ Ι.

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. SCENEI.-- An orchard, near Oliver's house.

Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear, how he Enter ORLANDO and Adam.

will shake me up: Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion Oli. Now, sir! what make you here? bequeathed me : By will, but a poor thonsand crowns; Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any thing. and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his bless- Oli. What mar you then, sir? ing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps idleness. me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought stays me here at home unkept; for call you that awhile! keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? from the stalling of anox ? His horses are bred better; What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they come to such penury? are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly Oli. Know you, where you are, sir? hired : but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but Orl. 0, sir, very well: here in your orchard. growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are

oli. Know you, before whom, sir? as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing, that Orl. Ay, better than he I am before, knows me. I he so plentifully gives me, the something, that nature know, you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he condition of blood, you should so know me. The lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a bro-courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that yon ther, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility are the first born; but the same tradition takes not with my education. This it is, Adam, that grieves me : away my blood, were theretwenty brothers betwixt us: and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, I have as much of my father in me, as you : albeit, I begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no long-confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reveer endure it, though yet Ikuow nu wise remedy, how rence. to avoid it

oli. What, boy!

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you, leave me!

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too yonng tion to come in disguis'd

against me to try a fall. Toin this.

morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?

escapes me without some broken limb,shall acquit him Orl. I am no villain : I am the youngest son of sir well. Your brother is but young, and tender; and, Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is thrice for your love, I would be loth to foil him, as I must, a villain, that says such a father begot villains. Wert for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; thy throat, till this other had pulled out thy tongue that either you might stay him from his intendment, for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself.

or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether remembrance, be at accord!

against my will. Oli. Let me go, I say !

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which Orl. I will not, till í please: you shall hear me. My thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myfather charged you in his will to give me good educa- self notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have tion: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, it is the spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no stubborncst young fellow of France; full of ambition, longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a seas may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allot-cret and villainous contriver against me, his natural tery my father left me by testament; with that I will brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou go buy my fortures.

didst break his neck as his finger, and thou wert best oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent ? look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with if he do not mightily grace himself on thec, he will you: you shall have some part of your will : I pray practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some

treacherous device, and never leave thee, till he hath Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me ta’en thy life by some indirect means or other: for, for my good.

I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is Oli. Get you with him, you old dog!

not one so young and so villainous this day living. 1 Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize lost my teeth in your service.-God be with my old him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou master! he would not have spoke such a word. must look pale and wonder.

[Exeunt Orlando and Adam. Cha. I am heartily glad, I came hither to you: if Oli. Is it eveo so? begin you to grow upon me? I he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment. If ever will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: crowns neither. Holla, Dennis !

and so, God keep your worship!

[Exit. Enter Dexsis.

Oli. Farewell, good Charles !-Now will I stir this Den. Calls your worship?

gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and yet learned ; full

soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. speak with me? Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and im- of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved;

and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and portunes access to you. Oli . Call him

in. [Exit Dennis.]—'Twill be a good especially of my own people, who best know him, that way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.

I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long;

this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains, but Enter CHARLES.

that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. Cha. Good morrow to your worship.

(Exit. Oli. Good monsieur Charles !--what's the new news at the new court?

SCENE II.- Alawn before the Duke's palace. Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old

Enter Rosalind and Celia. news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry ! brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth, thau I am mishave put themselves into voluntary exile with him, tress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; there you could teach me to forget a banished father, you fore he gives them good leave to wander.

must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, pleasure. be banished with her father?

Cel. Herein, I see, thon lovest me not with the full Cha. 0, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so weight,that I love thee:if my uncle,thy banished father, Joves her,--being ever from their cradles bred toge- had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou ther,-that she would have followed her exile, or have hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no to take thy father for mine; so would'st thou, if the less beloved of her uncle, than his own daughter; and truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper’d, never two ladies loved as they do.

as mine is to thee. Oli. Where will the old duke live?

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, to rejoice in your's. and a many merry men with him; and there they live Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, nor like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies, thou young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken

away

from time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. thy father perforce, I will reader thee again in affeOli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new ction; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that duke?

oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint you my dear Rose, be merry! with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand, Řos. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports: that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposi- let me see, what think you of falling in love?

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