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To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands,
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith,
Gratiano,

You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Bass. [Aside.] Why, I were best to cut my
left hand off,

And swear I lost the ring defending it.

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine :

And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
Por.
What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, that you receiv'd of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see, my finger
Hath not the ring upon it,-it is gone.

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring.

Ner.

Till I again see mine. Bass.

Nor I in yours, 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 strength of your displea-

sure.

Per. If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. What man is there so much unreasonable, If you had pleas'd to have defended it With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty Το urge the thing held as a ceremony? Nerissa teaches me what to believe: I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my No woman had it, but a civil doctor, [soul, Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away; Even he that had held up the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet I was enforc'd to send it after him : I was beset with shame and courtesy ; My honour would not let ingratitude So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed candles of the night, Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd

[lady?

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house:

Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you;
I'll not deny him anything I have,
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
Lie not a night from home; watch me like
If you do not, if I be left alone, [Argus:
Now by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. [vis'd

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well adHow you do leave me to mine own protection. Gra. Well, do you so let me not take him, then ;

For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Ant. I am th' unhappy subject of these [notwithstanding.

quarrels.

Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself,

Por.

Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; In each eye, one-swear by your double self, And there's an oath of credit.

Bass.
Nay, but hear me :
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth;
Which, but for him that had your husband's
ring,

Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.

Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give

him this;

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highways

In summer, when the ways are fair enough:
What, are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it?
Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all
amaz'd:

Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
[tor;
There you shall find that Portia was the doc-
Nerissa, there, her clerk: Lorenzo, here,
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
And even but now return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies

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Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? [cuckold? Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to Unless he live until he be a man. [do it, Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow :

When I am absent, then, lie with my wife.
Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life
and living;

For here I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.

Por.

How now, Lorenzo! My clerk hath some good comforts, too, for you. Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee,

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SCENE,-First, near Oliver's House; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in the Forest of Arden.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-An Orchard near Oliver's House.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

--

his animals on his dunghills are as much he so plentifully gives me, the something that bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon from me he lets me feed with his hinds, bars this fashion, bequeathed me by will but me the place of a brother, and, as much as in poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, him lies, mines my gentility with my educacharged my brother, on his blessing, to breed tion. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and me well and there begins my sadness. My the spirit of my father, which I think is within brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he I will no longer endure it, though yet I know keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak no wise remedy how to avoid it. [brother. more properly, stays me here at home unkept; Adam. Yonder comes my master, your for call you that keeping for a gentleman of Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear my birth, that differs not from the stalling of how he will shake me up. an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which

Enter Oliver.

Oli. Now, sir! what make you here?
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make
Oli. What mar you then, sir? [anything.
Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar

that which God made, a poor unworthy a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. brother of yours, with idleness.

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought awhile.

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oli. Know you were you are, sir? Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. Oli. Know you before whom, sir? Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.

Oli. What, boy!

[young in this. Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois: he was my father; and he is thrice a villain that says such 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 saying so thou hast railed on thyself.

Adam. Sweet masters, be patient for your father's remembrance, be at accord.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

Enter Charles.

Cha. Good-morrow to your worship. Oli. Good monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court?

Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father?

Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less 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 say, he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.

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

Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come me. My father charged you in his will to give in disguised against me to try a fali. To-morme good education: you have trained me like row, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all escapes me without some broken limb shali gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my acquit him well. Your brother is but young father grows strong in me, and I will no and tender; and, for your love, I would be longer endure it: therefore allow me such loth to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, exercises as may become a gentleman, or give if he come in: therefore, out of my love to me the poor allottery my father left me by you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. that either you might stay him from his inOli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when tendment, or brook such disgrace well as he that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own not long be troubled with you; you shall have search, and altogether against my will. some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. Orl. I will no farther offend you than be-me, which, thou shalt find, I will most kindly comes me for my good.

Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service.-God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam. Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give Do thousand crowns neither.-Hola, Dennis! Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your worship?

Oli. Was not Charles the duke's wrestler here to speak with me?

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

Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.]-'Twill be

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to

requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute.

I'll tell thee, Charles; it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion: I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: and thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee,

and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

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 wrestle for prize more: and so, God keep your worship!

-

Ros. I would we could do so; for her bene→ fits are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.

Cel. 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favouredly.

Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.

Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Cel. No? when Nature hath made a fair Charles.] Now will I stir this gamester: I creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, fire?-[Enter Touchstone.] Though Nature yet I know not why, hates nothing more than hath_given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath he: yet he's gentle; never schooled, and yet not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the arlearned; full of noble device; of all sorts en-gument? chantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for the heart of the world, and especially of my Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural own people, who best know him, that I am the cutter off of Nature's wit. altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing re- neither, but Nature's; who, perceiving our mains but that I kindle the boy thither; which natural wits too dull to reason of such godnow I'll go about. [Exit. desses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: SCENE II.—A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.-How now, wit! whither wander you?

Enter Rosalind and Celia.

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.

Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.

Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee.

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal but love no man in good earnest; nor no farther in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.

Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.

Cel. Were you made the messenger? Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid to come for you.

Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?

Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn.

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

Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. [art.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.

Cel. Pr'ythee, who is't that thou meanest ? Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.

Cel. My father's love is enough to honour him enough: speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation one of these days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly. Ros. What shall be our sport, then? Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true; for Cel. Let us sit and mock the good house-since the little wit that fools have was silenced, wife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts the little foolery that wise men have makes a may henceforth be bestowed equally. great show.-Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.

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be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Ros. Is yonder the man?

Le Beau. Even he, madam.

Cel. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully.

Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the men : in

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain I answer you?

Ros. As wit and fortune will.

Touch. Or as the destinies decree.

Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.

Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,-
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. Cel. Well,-the beginning, that is dead and buried. [three sons,Le Beau. There comes an old man and his Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence ;

Ros. With bills on their necks,-" Be it known unto all men by these presents."

dissuade him, but he will not be entreated, Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur le Beau. Duke F. Do so: I'll not be by.

[Duke goes apart. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you.

Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?

Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.

Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised; we will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward.

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no

Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping. Ros. Alas! Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that wrong, for I have none to lament me; the the ladies have lost?

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.

Cel. Or I, I promise thee.

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking ?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?

Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it.

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords,
Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.
Duke F. Come on: since the youth will not

world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you.

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Ros. Fare you well: pray heaven, I be deceived in you!

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you! Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.

Duke F. You shall try but one fall.

Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you

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