Steph. A friend. Lor. A friend? what friend? your name I pray you, friend? Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word, My mistress will before the break of day Lor. Who comes with her? If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Did feign, that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her The man that hath no musick in himself, maid. I pray you, is my master yet return'd? Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from The motions of his spirit are dull as night, him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, Some welcome for the mistress of the house. Enter LAUNCELOT. Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola! Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola! Lor. Leave hollaing, man; 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 coming. And yet no matter:-Why should we go in? And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the musick. 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 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 awak'd! [Musick ceases. Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice. Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 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 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 day- Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth light 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, But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord. Bass. 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: Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 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; 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? Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. Ner. Nor I in yours, Till I again see mine. Bass. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, sure. Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, No woman had it, but a civil doctor, And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away; my dear friend. What should I say, sweet I was enforc'd to send it after him; 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, I will become as liberal as you; Lie not a night from home; watch me like 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 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, Por. Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself: Bass. Nay, but hear me : Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give 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 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: 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. For here I read for certain, that my ships 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, 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 Gra. Let it be so: The first intergatory [Exeunt. The scene lies, 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. 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 bro ther, 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. 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 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 employed, 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? Oli. 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 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 me. 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 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 be 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 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 loth 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 |