Gratiano. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away And neither man, nor master, would take aught What ring, gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. Bassanio. If I could add a lie unto a fault. I would deny it; but you see, my finger 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 To urge the thing held as a ceremony? Nerissa teaches me what to believe: I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. Bassanio. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, I was beset with shame and courtesy ; So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. Portia. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house. I'll not deny him anything I have; Nerissa. [Argus; And I his clerk; therefore, be well advis'd How you do leave me to mine own protection. Then, you shall be his surety. Give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other. Antonio. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. Bassanio. By heaven! it is the same I gave the doctor. Portia. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio, For by this ring the doctor lay with me. Nerissa. 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. Gratiano. 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? Portia. Speak not so grossly. You are all amaz'd: Here is a letter, read it at your leisure; It comes from Padua, from Bellario: 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 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 Are richly come to harbour suddenly. You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter. DUKE, Senior, living in exile. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Corin, Frederick, his Brother, usurper of his dominions. Solus,} Shepherds. Amiens, Jaques, Lords attending upon the exiled Duke. William, a Country Fellow, in love with Audrey. Rosalind, Daughter to the exiled Duke. Phebe, a Shepherdess. Audrey, a Country Wench. Lords; Pages, Foresters, and Attendants. The SCENE lies. first, near Oliver's House; afterwards, in the Usurper's Court, and in the Forest of Arden. ACT I. keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are SCENE 1. An Orchard, near Oliver's House. bred better; for, besides that they are fair with Enter Orlando and Adam. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but a poor 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 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 his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orlando. become a gentleman, or give me the poor allot- 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 Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he of your will. I pray you, leave me. will shake me up. Enter Oliver. Oliver. Now, sir! what make you here? Orlando. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oliver. What mar you then, sir? Orlando. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oliver. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. Orlando. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oliver. Know you where you are, sir? Orlando. O sir, very well: here, in your orchard. Know you before whom, sir? Orlando. Enter Charles. Good morrow to your worship. Oliver. Good monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court? Charles. 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 reve Come, come, elder brother, you are too young nues enrich the new duke; therefore, he gives them good leave to wander. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father? Charles. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young, and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must for my own honour if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you I come 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. Oliver. 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: it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous 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 villanous 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. Charles. Oliver. 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. 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 [Exit. about. SCENE 11. A Lawn before the Duke's Enter Rosalind and Celia. Celia. 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. Rosalind. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love? Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's; who, perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. wits. How now, wit? whither wander you? Rosalind. 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. Celia. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy ba Touchstone. All the better; we shall be the more marketable. Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news? Le Beau. 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 weeping. Rosalind. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. ready to perform it. Cella. Celia. Thou losest thy old smell. Le Beau. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, How now, daughter, and cousin! are you You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you crept hither to see the wrestling? |