Bass. This ring, good sir,-alas, it is a trifle;
I will not shame myself to give you this.
Por. I will have nothing else but only this;
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. [value.
Bass. There's more depends on this than on the
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation;
Only for this I pray you pardon me.
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers:
You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks,
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd.
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;
And, when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it.
Por. That 'scuse serves many mien to save their
An if your wife be not a mad woman,
[gifts.
And know how well I have deserv'd this ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa.
Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring;
Let his deservings, and my love withal,
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment.
Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst,
Unto Antonio's house:-away, make haste. [Ex. Gra,
Come, you and I will thither presently;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont: Come, Antonio.

SCENE II.-Venice. A Street.
Enter Portia and Nerissa.

[Exeunt.

And ne'er a true one.
Lor.

In such a night,

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
Fes. I would out-night you, did no body come:
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter Stephano.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.
[you, friend,
Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray
My mistress will before the break of day
Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word,
Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.

Lor.

Who comes with her? Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. pray you, is my master yet return'd?

But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.-

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter Launcelot.

Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola!
Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! Did you see master Lorenzo, and
mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola!

Lor. Here.

Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here.
Laun. Sola! where? where?
Laun. Tell him, there 's a post come from my
master, with his horn full of good news; my master
[Hxit.

Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed, will be here ere morning.

And let him sign it; we 'll away to-night,
And be a day before our husbands home:

This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en:

My lord Bassanio, upon more advice,

Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat
Your company at dinner. Por. That cannot be:
His ring I do accept most thankfully,
And so, I pray you, tell him: Furthermore,

I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
Gra. That will I do.
Ner.

Lor. Sweet soul, let 's in, and there expect their

coming.

And yet no matter;-Why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand:
And bring your music forth into the air.

[Exit Stephano.
How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
Sir, I would speak with you:-There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins:
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.-
Enter Musicians.

I'll see if I can get my husband's ring. [To Portia.
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
Por. Thou may'st, I warrant. We shall have old
swearing,

That they did give the rings away to men;
But we 'll outface them, and outswear them too.
Away, r
, make haste; thou know'st where I will tarry.
Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.-Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House.
Enter Lorenzo and Jessica.

house?

Lor. The moon shines bright :-In such a night as

this,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
And they did make no noise,-in such a night
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.

Fes.

In such a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismay'd away.

Lor.
In such a night,
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
Jes.
In such a night,
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old son,
Lor.
In such a night,
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew;
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,
As far as Belmont.
Fes.
In such a night,
Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.
Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
[Music.
Lor. The reason is your spirits are attentive:
or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and

floods;

Since nought so stockish, hard, full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature:
The man that hath no music in himself,

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.
Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. [candle.
Ner. When the moon shone we did not see the
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less:

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;
And bid him keep it better than the other.
Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
Bass. By heaven, it is the same 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 same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In lieu of this last night did lie with me.

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it?
Per. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'd:
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;

It comes from Padua, from Ballario:

There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor;
Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you,
And but e'en 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
Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter. Ant. I am dumb.

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?

Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me
cuckold?

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it,
Unless he live until he be a man.

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

Por. It is almost morning,

And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full: Let us go in;
And charge us there upon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
Gra. Let it be so: The first inter'gatory,
That my Nerissa shall be sworn 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,
Till I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-An Orchard, near Oliver's House.
Enter Orlando and Adam.

CELIA, daughter to Frederick.
PHEBE, a shepherdess.
AUDREY, a country wench.

Lords belonging to the two Dukes;
Pages, Foresters, and other At-
tendants.

SCENE. First, near Oliver's house; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's court, and partiy in the Forest of ARDEN.

Enter Oliver.

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

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

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which
God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with
idleness.

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

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

Oli. What, boy! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? [in this.

Oli. Let me go, I say.

Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentlemanlike qualities: the spirit of iny father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.

Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of Rowland de Bois; he was my father; and he is ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains: parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger: tongue for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself. And thou wert best look to 't; for if thou dost him any Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your fa- slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself ther's remembrance, be at accord. on thee, he will practice 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! [Exit. Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir this gamester: I hope, I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he 's gentle; never schooled and yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exit.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. (for my good. Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me 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 inaster! 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 no thousand crowns neither. Holla, 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 im-
portunes access to you.

Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.]-'T will be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.

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 banish'd 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?

SCENE II.-A Lawn before the Duke's Palace.
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 lov'st 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 would'st thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd 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 prithee do, to make sport withal: Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in and a many merry men with him; and there they sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say mayst in honour come off again, many young gentlemen flock to hini every day, and Ros. What shall be our sport then? fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, For world. duke? tune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new be bestowed equally. Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to under- mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman stand that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a doth most mistake in her gifts to women. disposition to come in disguised against me to try a Cel. 'T is true: for those that she makes fair she fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and scarce makes honest; and those that she makes he that escapes me without some broken limb shall honest she makes very ill-favour'dly. acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to tender; and, for your love, I would be loth to foil nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in the lineaments of nature. therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly 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,

Enter Touchstone.

Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by fortune fall into the fire? Though nature hath giver us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit.

Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work nei

ther, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits | rib-breaking?-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Le Beau. You must, if you stay here: for here is natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.-How now, ready to perform it. wit? whither wander you?

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your
Cel. Were you made the messenger? [father.
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.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were:
but if you swear by that that is not, you are not for-
sworn: 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. Prithee, who is 't that thou mean'st?
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 whipp'd
for taxation, one of these days.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak
wisely, what wise men do foolishly.

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes monsieur Le Beau.

Enter Le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of news.

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

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Orlando,
Charles, and Attendants.

[fully.

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not 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 success. 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 man. In pity of the challenger's youth I would fain 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 a part. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls 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

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their duke that the wrestling might not go forward.

young.

Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny Cel. All the better; we shall be the more market- so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your able. Bonjour, monsieur Le Beau: What's the news? fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that Cel. Sport? Of what colour? [sport. was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is

Le Beau. What colour, madam? How shall I an-willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for Ros. As wit and fortune will. [swer you? I have none to lament me; the 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 inade it empty.

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 goodwrestling, 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. Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons,

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,"

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 weep-
Ros. Alas!
[ing.
Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that 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

Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. [with you. Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived Cel. Your heart's desires be with you. fin 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 should not
have mocked me before: but come your ways.
Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man!
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong
fellow by the leg. [Charles and Orlando wrestle.
Ros. O excellent young man!
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell
who should down. [Charles is thrown. Shout.
Duke F. No more, no more.
Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace; I am not yet well
Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? [breathed.
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away.
What is thy name, young man?
Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of sir
Rowland de Bois.

[Charles is borne out.

Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man
The world esteem'd thy father honourable, [else.
But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with this deed