Obrazy na stronie
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Ba. Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the ftrength of your difplea-

fure.

Per. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthinefs that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to retain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there fo much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerifia teaches me what to believe;
I'll die for't, but fome woman had the ring.
Baf. No, by mine honour, madam, by my foul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Who did refufe three thousand ducats of me,
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him,
And furier'd him to go difpleas'd away ;
Even he that had held up

the very life

Baff. Nay, but hear me:
Pardon this fault, and by my foul I fwear,
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Anth. I once did lend my body for his wealth2;
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
[To Portia.

Had quite mifcarry'd: I dare be bound again,
My foul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.

Por. Then you fhall be his furety: Give him this;
And bid him keep it better than the other.
Anth. Here, lord Baffanio; fwear to keep this
ring.

Baff. By heaven, it is the fame I gave the
doctor.

Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; For by this ring the doctor lay with me.

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; For that fame fcrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, laft night did lie with me.

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highway In fummer, where the ways are fair enough: What! are we cuckolds ere we have deferv'd it?

l'or. Speak not fo grofsly.--You are all amaz`d:

Of my dear friend. What should I fay, fweet lady Here is a letter, read it at your leifure,

I was enforc'd to fend it after him;

I was befet with shame and courtesy;

My honour would not let ingratitude

Sumath befmear it: Pardon me, good lady;
For, by thefe bleifed candles of the night,

It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you fhall find, that Portia was the doctor;
Neriffa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here

Shall witnefs, I fet forth as foon as you,
And but even now return'd; I have not yet

Had you been there, I think you would have Enter'd my house.---Anthonio, you are welcome;

begg'd

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

Pr. Let not that doctor e'er come near
houfe:

Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd,
Aral that which you did fwear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you;

I not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my body, nor my hutband's bed:
Know him I fhall, I am well fure of it:

And I have better news in ftore for you,
Than you expect: unfeal this letter foon;
my There you fhall find, three of your argofies
Are richly come to harbour fuddenly:
You fhall not know by what itrange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Le not a night from home; watch me, like Argus:
If you do not, if I be left alone,

Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own,
I have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd,
How you do leave me to mine own protection.

Gra. Well, do you fo: let me not take him then;
For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.
Art. I am the unhappy fubject of thefe
quarrels.

For. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome not-
withstanding.

B. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; And, in the hearing of thefe many friends, lwear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I fee myself,

Fr. Mark you but that!

In both mine eyes he doubly fees himself:
In each eye, one:-fwear by your double felf1,
And there's an oath of credit.

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When I am abfent, then lie with my wife.

Anth. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and
living;

For here I read for certain, that my fhips
Are fafely come to road.

Por. How now, Lorenzo?

My clerk hath fome good comforts too for you.
Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a
fee.-

There do I give to you, and Jeffica,
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies poffefs'd of.
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.

Por. It is almoft morning,
And yet, I am fure, you are not fatisfy'd

1 Double is here put for full duplicity.

2 That is, his advantage.

Of

Of thefe events at full: Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will anfwer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be fo: The first inter'gatory, That my Neriffa fhall be fworn 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 fore, as keeping fafe Neriffa's ring.

[Exeunt

A

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Lords belonging to the two Dukes; with pages, forefters, and other attendants.

The SCENE lies, firft, near Oliver's boufe; and, afterwards, partly in the Duke's court, and partly in the forest of A den.

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АСТ І.

SCENE 1.
Oliver's Orchard.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

ASI remember, Adam, it was upon

of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adan, that grieves me; and the fpirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny

against this fervitude: I will no longer endure it, this fathion bequeathed me:By though yet I know no wife remedy how to avoid

Enter Oliver.

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orla. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.

will, but a poor thousand crowns; and, as thou it.
fit, charg'd my brother, on his bleifing, to
breed me well: and there begins my fadnefs. My
brother Jaques he keeps at fchool, and report
Speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he
keeps me ruftically at home, or, to speak more
properly, ftays me here at home, unkept: For
call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth,
duffers not from the ftalling of an ox? His
buries are bred better; for, befides that they are fair

Oli. Now, fir! what make you here?

Orla. Nothing: I am not taught to make any

thing.

Oli. What mar you then, fir?

Orla. Marry, fir, I am helping you to mar that wat their feeding, they are taught their manage, which God made, a poor unworthy brother of and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his yours, with idlenes.

brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for Oli. Marry, fir, be better employ'd, and be te which bis animals on his dunghills are as muchñought a while 2. Bound to him as I. Befides this nothing that he fo plentifully gives me, the fomething that nature pare me, his countenance feems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place

Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat hufks with them What prodigal portion have I spent, that I fhould come to fuch penury?

Oli. Know you where you are, fir?

* Dr. Warburton thinks we should read Ayes, i. e. keeps me like a brute. 2 Probably meaning, be content to be a cypher, or of no confequence for the prefent.

Orla

Orla. O, fir, very well: here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, fir?

Oli. Good monfieur Charles what's the new news at the new court?

Orla. Ay, better than he, I am before, knows Cha. There's no news at the court, fir, but the me. I know you are my eldeft brother; and, in old news: that is, the old duke is banith'd by his the gentle condition of blood, you should fo know younger brother the new duke; and three or four me: The courtesy of nations allows you my better, loving lords have put themfelves into voluntary in that you are the firit-born; but the fame tra- exile with him, whofe lands and revenues enrich dition takes not away my blood, were there twenty the new duke, therefore he gives them good leave brothers betwixt us; I have as much of my father to wander.

in me as you; albeit, I confefs your coming before

me is nearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

Oli. Can you tell, if Rofalind, the old duke's daughter, be banish'd with her father?

Cha. O, no; for the new duke's daughter, her

Orla. Come, come, elder brother, you are too coufin, fo loves her,—being ever from their cradles young in this.

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain 1? Orla. I am no villain 2: I am the youngcft fon of fir Rowland de Boys; he was my father; and he is thrice a villain, that fays, fuch a father begot villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, 'till this other had pulled out thy tongue for faying fo; thou haft rail'd on thyfelf.

bred together, that fhe would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no lefs beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.

Oli. Where will the old duke live?

Cha. They fay, he is already in the foreft of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of Eng

Adam. Sweet mafters, be patient; for your land: they fay, many young gentlemen flock to father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I fay.

him every day; and fleet the time careleily, as they did in the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke?

Orla. I will not, 'till I pleafe; you fhall hear me. My father charg'd you in his will to give me good education: you have train'd me up like a Cha. Merry, do I, fir, and I come to acquaint peafant, obfcuring and hiding from me all gen-you with a matter. I am given, fir, fecretly to tleman-like qualities: the fpirit of my father grows understand that your younger brother Orlando hath ftrong in me, and I will no longer endure ita difpofition to come in difguis'd against me to try therefore allow me fuch exercifes as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery father left me by teftament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is fpent? Well, fir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you: you fhall have fome part of your will: I pray you, leave me.

a fall: To-morrow, fir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that efcapes me without fome broken limb, hall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and tender; and, for your love, I would be loth to foil him, as Imaft, for mine own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might tay him from his intendment, or brook

Orla. I will no further offend you than becomes fuch di grace well as he fhall run into; in that me for my good. it is a thing of his own fearch, and altogether against my will.

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. Adam. Is old dog my reward? Moft true, I Ch. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, have loft my teeth in your fervice.--God be with which thou fhalt find, I will moit kindly requite. my old maiter, he would not have spoke fuch I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein. word. [Fxeant Orlando and Adam, and have by underhand means laboured to diffuade Oli. Is it even fo? begin you to grow upon me? him from it; but he is refolute. I'll tell thee, I will phyfick your ranknets, and yet give no thou-Charles,—it is the ftubbornest young fellow of fand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!

Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your worthip?

France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a fecret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore ufe thy difcretion; I had as lief thou didst break his

Oli. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here neck, as his finger; and thou wert beit look to`t ; to speak with me?

Den. So please, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you.

Oli. Call him in.- [Exit Dennis.] 'Twill be good way; and to-morrow the wreitling is.

Enter Charles.

Cha. Good-morrow to your worship.

1 Villain here means, a wicked or bloody man. of low extraction.

a

for if thou doft him any flight difgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practife against thee by poison; entrap thee by fome treacherous device; and never leave thee, 'till he hath ta'en thy life by fome indirect means or other : for, I affure thee, and almoft with tears I ipeak it, there is not one fo young and fo villainous this day living. I fpeak but brotherly of him; but

2 But in this place Orlando ufes it for a fellow

should

Could Í anatomize him to thee as he is, I muft bluth and weep, and thou must look pale and wrader.

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go alone again, I'll never wreftle for pize more. And fo, God keep your worship'

[Exit.

Oli. Farewel, good Charles.--Now will I ftir this gamefter: I hope, I fhall fee an end of him; for my foul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never fchool'd, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all forts enchantingly beloved: and, indeed, fo much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who beit know him, that I am altogether prifed: but it fhall not be fo long; this wreitler thad clear all: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.

SCEN E II.

En open walk before the Duke's palace.

Enter Rofalind and Celia.

Rof. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature.

Enter Touchflone, a clown.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creqture, may the not by fortune fall into the fireThough nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune fent in this fool to cut off the argument?

Ref. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for na ture; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit.

Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reafon of fuch goddeffes, hath fent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulnefs of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you?

Clo. Mistress, you must come away to your father.
Cel. Were you made the metlenger?
Clo. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to
come for you.

Raf. Where learned you that oath, fool?
Clo. Of a certain knight, that fwore by his honour
C. I pray thee, Rofalind, fweet my coz, be they were good pancakes, and fwore by his honour

R Dear Celia, I fhow more mirth than I am thes of: and would you yet I were merrier ? def you could teach me to forget a banith'd fater, vou must not learn me how to remember any e-t-ordinary pleature.

the muftard was naught: now, I'll ftand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the muftard was good; and yet was not the knight forfworn.

Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge ?

Rof. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wifdom.
Cis. Stand you both forth now: ftroke your

Herein, I fee, thou lov'it me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy ba-chins, and fwear by your beards that I am a knave. thed filer, had banished thy uncle, the duke my farher, fo thou hadit been fill with me, I could have trught my love to take thy father for mine; fo wouldft thou, if the truth of thy love to me we fo righteoufly temper'd as mine is to thee. R: Well, I will forget the condition of my afe, to rejoice in yours.

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Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Clo. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you wear by that that is not, you are not forfworn: no more was this knight, fwearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had fworn it away, before ever he faw thote pancakes or that mustard.

Cal. Pr'ythee, who is it that thou mean's ?
Clo. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him:
Enough! fpeak no more of him; you'll be whipp'd
for taxation, one of these days.

Clo. The more pity, that fools may not speak wifely what wife men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou fay'ft true; for fince the little wit, that fools have, was filenc'd, the little foolery, that wife men have, makes a great show. Here comes Monfieur Le Beau.

Enter Le Beau.

Ref. With his mouth full of news.

Gel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.

Ref. Then fhall we be news-cramm'd.

Cel. All the better; we fhall be the more

Let us fit and mock the good housewife, Fun, from her wheel, that her gifts may hence-market.ble. Bon jour, Monfieur le Beau; what's th be bestowed equally.

I would we could do fo; for her benefits at mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind man doth moft miftake in her gifts to women. te is true: for those, that the makes fair, erce makes honeft; and thofe, that the makes t, the makes very ill-favour'dly.

the news?

Le Beau. Fair princefs, you have loft much good fport.

Cel. Sport? of what colour?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How fall I anfwer you?

Rof. As wit and fortune will.

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