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.

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by; and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Musick! hark!

Ner. It is your musick, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

Por. The crow doth sing as swectly as the lark,

When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought

No better a musician than the wren.

How

many things by scason season'd are To their right praise, and true perfection!Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak'd! [Musick ceases. Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portiu. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo,

By the bad voice.

Lor. Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,

Dear lady, welcome home.

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they retnrn'd?

Lor. Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming. Por Go in, Nerissa, Give order to my servants, that they take No note at all of our being absent hence;— Nor Lorenzo;-Jessica, nor you. you,

[A tucket sounds. Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his

trumpet:

We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick,

It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,
Such as the day is, when the sun is hid.
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and
their Followers.

Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me;

(But God sort all!You are welcome home, my

lord.

Buss. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my friend.

This is the man, this is Antonio,

To whom I am so infinitely bound. Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him,

For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.

[Gratiano and Nerissa seem to talk apart. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me

wrong,

In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the mate
ter?

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me; whose posy was
For all the world, like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.
You swore to me, when I did give it
Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value?

That

you,

you would wear it till your hour of death; And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for mc, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective, and have kept it.

Gave it a judge's clerk !-but well I know,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that

had it.

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, No higher than thyself, the Judge's clerk; A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee; I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with
you,

To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And riveted so 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, Gra-
tiano,

You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief;
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear, I lost the ring defending it. [Aside.

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, which 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

Until I see the ring.

Ner.

Till I again see mine.

Bass.

you

Nor I in yours,

Sweet Portia,

If 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 naught would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. 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.
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
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
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet
lady?

life

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
begged

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 any thing 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 Argus:

If you do not, if I be left alone,

Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own. I'll 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 so: let me not take him

then;

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

Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome notwithstanding.

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,

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, [To Portia. 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 high

ways

In summer, where 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:
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 even 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.

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 statisfied
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 intergatory, 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, That 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. Orl. 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 keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of 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 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, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.

Oli. Now, sir! what make here? you Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.

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 employ'd, and be naught 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.

Óli. Know you where 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!

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

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.

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 gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercise 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.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long e troubled with you: you shall have some part your will: I pray you, leave me.

rl. I will no further offend you than bes me for my good.

Get you with him, you old dog.

Is old dog my reward? Most true, I it 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 ine! I will physick your rankness, and yet give no 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 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 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 brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd 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 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