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Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infused itself in thee; for thy desires

Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous.

Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud: Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall

To cureless ruin.-I stand here for law.

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court.Where is he?

Ner. He attendeth here hard by,

To know your answer, whether you'll admit him.
Duke. With all my heart.-Some three or four of you,
Go give him courteous conduct to this place.-
Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario's letter.

[Clerk reads.] "Your grace shall understand, that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome, his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Te and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er many books together: he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, (the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend,) comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation."

Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes: And here, I take it, is the doctor come.

Enter PORTIA, dressed like a doctor of laws.
Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario?
Por. I did, my lord.

Duke. You are welcome: take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the court?

Por. I am informed throughly of the cause.-
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
Por. Is your name Shylock?

Shy. Shylock is my name.

Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;

fet in such rule, that the Venetian law

Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.

You stand within his danger, do you not? [To ANTONIO Ant. Ay, so he says.

Por. Do you confess the bond?

Ant. I do.

Por. Then must the Jew be merciful.

Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shews the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then shew likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,-
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much,
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there
Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.

Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?
Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the ccurt;
Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:

If this will not suffice, it must appear

That malice bears down truth. And I beseech yon,
Wrest once the law to your authority:
To do a great right, do a little wrong;
And curb this cruel devil of his will.

Por. It must not be; there is no power in Venice

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Por. Why, this bond is forfeit ;
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant's heart.-Be merciful;
Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
Shy. When it is paid according to the tenor.-
It doth appear, you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition

Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay here on my bond.

Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court
To give the judgment.

Por. Why then, thus it is.

You must prepare your bosom for his knife:
Shy. O noble judge! O excellent young man!
Por. For the intent and purpose of the law
Hath full relation to the penalty,

Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
Shy. 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
Por. Therefore, lay bare your bosom.
Shy. Ay, his breast:

So says the bond;-doth it not, noble judge?—
Nearest his heart, those are the very words

Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh The flesh?

Shy. I have them ready.

Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,

To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond?

Por. It is not so express'd; but what of that? 'Twere good you do so much for charity.

Shy. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.

Por. Come, merchant, have you anything to say?
Ant. But little; I am arm'd, and well prepared.—
Give me your hand, Bassanio; fare you well!
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
For herein fortune shews herself more kind
Than is her custom: it is still her use
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow,
An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
Of such a misery doth she cut me off.
Commend me to your honourable wife:
Tell her the process of Antonio's end,
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death,
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not that he pays your debt;
For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
I'll pay it instantly with all my heart.

Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself;
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:

I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.

Por. You wife would give you little thanks for that, If she were by, to hear you make the offer.

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:

I would she were in heaven, so she could
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back;
The wish would make else an unquiet house.

Shy.. These be the Christian husbands: I have a
Would any of the stock of Barrabas
[daughter;
Had been her husband, rather than a Christian! [Aside.
We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence.

Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine; The court awards it, and the law doth give it. Shy. Most rightful judge!

Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast, The law allows it, and the court awards it.

Shy. Most learned judge!—A sentence; come, pre Por. Tarry a little ;-there is something else. [pare

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The Jew shall have all justice;-soft! no haste;He shall have nothing but the penalty.

Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
Por. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less, nor more,
But just a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more,
Or less, than a just pound,-be it but so much
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part

Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,-

Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture.
Shy. Give me my principal, and let go.
Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is.
Por. He hath refused it in the open court;
He shall have merely justice, and his bond.

Gra. A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel!I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal? Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.

Shy. Why then the devil give him good of it! I'll stay no longer question.

Por. Tarry, Jew;

The law hath yet another hold on you.

It is enacted in the laws of Venice,

If it be proved against an alien,

That by direct or indirect attempts

He seek the life of any citizen,

The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive
Shall seize one-half his goods; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st:
For it appears by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly too,

Thou hast contrived against the very life
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd

The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.

[self:

Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thy-
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.

Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.
Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that.
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house; you take my life,
When you do take the means whereby I live.

Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.
Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court,

To quit the fine for one-half of his goods;

I am content, so he will let me have

The other half in use,-to render it,
Upon his death, unto the gentleman

That lately stole his daughter:

Two things provided more,-that, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian;
The other, that he do record a gift,
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.

Duke. He shall do this; or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.

Por. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say? Shy. I am content.

Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift.

Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; I am not well; send the deed after me, And I will sign it.

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it.

Gra. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers; Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit SHY. Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon;

I must away this night toward Padua,

And it is meet I presently set forth.

Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. Antonio, gratify this gentleman;

For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.

[Exeunt DUKE, Magnificoes, and train.
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Ant. And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.

Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid;
My mind was never yet more mercenary.

I pray you, know me, when we meet again;

I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

Bass. Dear Sir, of force I must attempt you further; Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake; And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you:Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more; And you in love shall not deny me this.

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.

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.

[value.

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 men to save their gifts.
An if your wife be not a mad woman,

And know how well I have deserved 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.

[Exit GRATIANO.

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Avenue to PORTIA'S House. Enter LORENZO and JESSICA. Lor. The moon shines bright:-in such a night as When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, [this, 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.

Jes. 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 waved her love

To come again to Carthage.

Jes. In such a night

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old Æson.

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.

Jes. And in such a night

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well;
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.

Lor. And in such a night

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody 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.

[friend?

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray you, Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word,

My mistress will before the break of day

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.

I pray you, is my master yet return'd?

Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.

But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,

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. Leave hollaing, man; here.

Laun. Sola! where? where?

Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.

[Exit.

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their And yet no matter;-why should we go in? [coming. My friend Stepháno, 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 moonlight 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;
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.

Come, hol and wake Diana with a hymu;

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:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,
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 naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,

Nor is not moved 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.

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the can-
[dle.
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. Music! hark!
Ner. It is your music, 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 sweetly 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 season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection!—
Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awaked!

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceived, of Portia.

[Music ceases.

Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the By the bad voice.

Lor. Dear lady, welcome home.

[cuckoo,

Por. We have been praying for our husband's welWhich speed, we hope, the better for our words. [fare, Are they return'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 you, Lorenzo;-Jessica, nor 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.
Bass. I thank you, Madam: give welcome to my
This is the man, this is Antonio,
[friend.-

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 matter?

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me; whose posy was
For all the world like cutlers' poetry
Upon a knife, "Love me, and leave me not."
Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death;
And that it should lie with you in your grave:
Though not for me, 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, Gratiano, 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.

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away

Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,

[Aside.

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 received 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. Nor I in yours, Till I again see mine.

Bass. 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 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 pleased 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 displeased away;
Even he that had held up the very life

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?

I was enforced 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
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 loved,

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 Argus:
If you do not, if I be left alone,

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

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advised
How you do leave me to mine own protection.
Gra. Well, do you so: let not me 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 notwith standing.

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,

[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 highways In summer, when the ways are fair enough: What are we cuckolds, ere we have deserved it? Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amazed: 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.

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 inter' gatories,
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,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So scre, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

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AS YOU LIKE IT.

DUKE, living in exile.

DRAMATIS PERSONE

FREDERICK, Brother to the DUKE, and usurper of his

dominions.

AMIENS, Lords attending upon the DUKE in his banish-
JAQUES,

ment.

LE BEAU, a Courtier attending upon FREDERICK.
CHARLES, his Wrestler.

OLIVER,

JAQUES,

ORLANDO,

Sons of Sir Rowland de Bois.

ADAM, } Servants to Oliver.

DENNIS,

TOUCHSTONE, a Clown.

Sir OLIVER MAR-TEXT, a Vicar.
CORIN,

SYLVIUS, Shepherds.

WILLIAM, a Country Fellow, in love with Audrey.
A person representing Hymen.

ROSALIND, Daughter to the banished DUKE.

CELIA, Daughter to FREDERICK.

PHEBE, a Shepherdess.

AUDREY, a Country Wench.

Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, Foresters, and other Attendants.

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

АСТ І.

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 it is, 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.

Enter OLIVER.

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.

Adam. [Coming forward.] 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 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.

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.

Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes 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 no thousand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis!

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Ori. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he portunes access to you.

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Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and imOli. 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 disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, Sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that

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