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Enter Musicians.

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRAZIANO, and their Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;

Followers. With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, And draw her home with music.

[Music. If you would walk in absence of the sun. Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;'

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, For do but note a wild and wanton herd,

And never be Bassanio so for me; Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,"

But God sort all !-- You are welcome home, my lord. Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my Which is the hot condition of their blood;

friend.If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, This is the man, this is Antonio, Or any air of music touch their cars,

To whom I am so infinitely bound. You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet Ant. No more than I am well acquitied of. Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, It must appear in other ways than words, But music for the time doth change his nature : Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy. The man that hath no music in himself,

(GRATLANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart. Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong; Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;: In faith, I gave it to the judge's elerk: The motions of his spirit are dull as night, Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, And his affections dark as Erebus :

Since

you do take it, love, so much at heart. Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music. Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter? Enter PORTIA and NERISSA at a distance.

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me ;

whose

posy was Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall.

For all the world like cutler's poetry
How far that little candle throws his beams!

Upon a knife,' Love me, and leave me not.
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the You swore to me, when I did give it you,

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value ? candle.

That you would wear it till your hour of death; Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less : And that it should lie with you in your grave: A substitute shines brightly as a king,

Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, Until a king be by; and then his state

You should have been respective, and have kept it. Empjies itself, as doth an inland brook

Gave it a judge's clerk !--but well I know, Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face that had it Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;'

Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day.

Gra Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

A kind of boy; a liule scrubbed boy,
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk;
When neither is attended ; and, I think,

A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee;
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,

I could not for my heart deny it him. When every goose is cackling, would be thought

Por. You were to blame, I'must be plain

with

you, No better a musician than the wren.

To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; How many things by season season'd are

A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, To their right praise, and true perfection !- And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion,

I gave my love a ring, and made him swear And would not be awak'd! (Music ceases. Never to part with it; and here he stands ; Lor.

That is the voice,

I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,

Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth cuckoo,

You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; By the bad voice.

An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home.
Por. We have been praying for our husbands' | And swear I lost the ring defending it.

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,

(Aside. welfare,

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Which speed,' we hope, the better for our words.

Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, Are they return'd?

Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, Lor.

Madam, they are not yet; That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine : But there is come a messenger before,

And neither man, nor master, would take aught To signify their coming.

But the two rings.
Por.
Go in, Nerissa,

Por.

What ring gave you, my lord ? Give order to my servants, that they take

Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. No note at all of our being absent hence;

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, Nor you, Lorenzo ;-Jessica, nor you.

I would deny it; but you see, my finger

(A tucket* sounds. Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone. Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet;

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not.

By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, Until I see the ring.
It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day,
Such as a day is when the sun is hid.

3 Not absolutely good, but relatively good, as it is

modified by circumstances. We find the same thought in the Tempest :

4 Toccata, Ital. a flourish on a trumpet. Then I beat my tabor,

5 Shakspeare delights to trifle with this wolu. At which, like unback'd colts, they pricked their ears, 6 This verbal complimentary form, made up only Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses

of breath, i. e. words. As they smelt music.'

-like cutler's poetry 2 Steevens, in one of his splenetic moods, censures

Upon a knife. this passage as neither pregnant with physical and Knives were formerly inscribed, by means y apua moral truth, nor poetically beautiful; and, with the as. fortis, with short sentences in distich. bistance of Lord Chesterfield's tirade against music, 9 Respective, that is considerative, regardul ; nos levels a blow at the lovers and professors of it.

respectful or respectable as Sleevens supposed.

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SCENE I.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.
Ner. Nor I in yours,

Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
Till I again see mine.

My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Bass.
Sweet Portia,

Will never more break faith advisedly.
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,

Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would coticeive for what I gave the ring, And bid him keep it better than the other.
And how unwillingly I left the ring,

Ant. Here, lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this
When nought would be accepted but the ring,

ring You would

abate the strength of your displeasure. Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doce Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,

tor! Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,

Por. I had it of bim: pardon me, Bassanio:
Or your own honour to contain the ring,

For by this ring the doctor lay with me.
You would not then have parted with the ring. Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
What man is there so much unreasonable, For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it

In lieu of this, last night did lie with me.
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?2

In summer, where the ways are fair enough;
Nerissa teaches me what to believe;

What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it ? t'll die' for'l, but some woman had the ring.

Por. Speak not so grossly.--You are all amaz'd:
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ;
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, There you shall find, that Portia was the doctor ;
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;

Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you,
Even he thai nad held up the very life

And but even now return'd: I have not yet
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome ;
I was enforc'd to send it after him ;

And I have better news in store for you,
I was beset with shame and courtesy;

Than you expect : unseal this letter soon;
My honour would not let ingratitude

There you shall find, three of your argosies
So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady; Are richly come to harbour suddenly;
For, by these blessed candless of the night, You shall not know by what strange accident
Had you been there, I think, you would have begga I chanced on this letter.
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

Ant.

I am dumb.
Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not ?
Since he hath got the jewel that I loy'd,

Gya. Were you the clerk, that is to make me
And that which you did swear to keep for me,

cuckold? I will become as liberal as you:

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it;
I'll not deny him any thing I have,

Unless he live until he be a man.
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:

Bass. Sweet doctor you shall be my bedfellow;
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:

When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
Lie not a night from home ; watch me, like Argus: Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, ano
If you do not, if I be left alone,

living i
Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own,

For here I read for certain, that my ships
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Are safely come to road.
Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, Por.

How now, Lorenzo ?
How

you do leave me tó mine own protection. My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him then; Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.-
For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. There do I give to you, and Jessica,
Ant

. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome not. After his death, of all he dies possess å of.
withstanding.

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;

Of starved people.
And, in the hearing of these many friends,

Por,

It is almost morning,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Wherein I see myself,-

Of these events at full: Let us go in;
Por.

Mark you but that! And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself:

And we will answer all

things faithfully.
In each eye, one :-swear by your double* self, Gra. Let it he so: The first inter'gatory
And there's an oath of credit.

That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Bass.

Nay, but hear me: Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, Or go to bed now, being two hours to day :
I never more will break an oath with thee.

But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ;' That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing

[To Portia. So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. (Exeunt. I To contain had nearly the same meaning with to Of the Merchant of Venicethe style is even and easy. retain.

with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of con 2 i. e. kept in a measure religiously, or superstitiously, struction. The comic part raises laughter, and the

3. We have again the same expression in one of serious fixes expectations. The probability of either one Shakspeare's Sonnets, in Macbeth, aud in Romeo and or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of Juliet.

two actions in one event is in this drama eminently hap. 4 Double is here used for deceitful, full of duplicity. py. Dryden was much pleased with his own address Wealth was the term generally opposed to adversity or 1 yet, 1 believe, the critic will find excelled by this piay. calamity

JOHNSON

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AS YOU LIKE IT.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

DR.

R. GREY and Mr. Upton asserted tnat this Play | The highly sketched figures pass along in the most di

was certainly borrowed from the Coke's Tale of versified succession : we see aiways the shady dark. Gamelyn, printed in Urry's Chaucer, but it is hardly green landscape in the back ground, and breathe in likely that Shakspeare saw that in manuscript, and imagination the fresh air of the forest. The hours are there is a more obvious source from whence he derived here measured by no clocks, no regulated recurrence his plot, viz. the pastoral romance of 'Rosalynde, or of duty or toil; they flow on unnumbered in voluntary Euphues' Golden Legacy,' by Thomas Lodge, first occupation or fanciful idleness.-One throws himsel printed in 1590. From this he has sketched his princi: down under the shade of melancholy boughs,' and in. pal characters, and constructed his plot; but those ad. dulges in reflection on the changes or fortune, the false. mirable beings, the melancholy Jaques, the witty hood of ine world, and the self-created torments of $0. Touchstone, and his Audrey, are of the poet's own cre cial life: others make the woods resound with social ation. Lodge's novel is one of those tiresome (I had and festive songs, to the accompaniment of their horns. almost said unnatural) pastoral romances, of which the Selfishness, envy and ambition, have been left in the Euphues of Lyly and the Arcadia of Sidney were also city behind them; of all the human passions, love alone popular examples: it has, however, the redeeming merit has found an entrance into this silvan scene, where it of some very beautiful verses interspersed, and the dictates the same language to the simple shepherd, circumstance of its having led to the formation of this and the chivalrous youth, who hangs his love dilty to a exquisite pastoral drama, is enough to make us with- tree ??t hold our assent to Steevens's splenetic censure of it as

And this their life, exempt from public haunts, worthless' * Touched by the magic wand of the enchanter, the

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. dull and endless prosing of the novelist is transformed into an interesting and lively drama. The forest of Ar.

How exquisitely is the character of Rosalind conceiv den converted into a real Arcadia of the golden age.

ed, what liveliness and sportive gajety, combined with

the most natural and affectionate tenderness; the reader * The following beautiful Stanzas are part of what is is as much in love with her as Orlando, and wonders called • Rosalynd's Madrigal,' and are not unworthy of not at Phebe's sudden passion for her when disguised as a place even in a page devoled to Shakspeare: Ganymede; or Celia's constant friendship. Touchstone Love in my bosom like a bee

is indeed a "rare fellow : he uses his folly as a stalking. Doth suck his sweet :

horse, and under the presentation of thai, he shoots his Now with his wings he plays with me,

wit :' his courtship of Audrey, his lecture to Corin, his Now with his feet.

defence of cuckolds, and his burlesque upon the . Within mine eyes he makes his nest,

duello' of the age, are all most 'exquisite fooling.' It His bed amidst my tender breast,

has been remarked, that there are few of Shakspeare's My kisses are his daily feast,

plays which contain so many passages that are quoted And yet he robs me of my rest.

and remembered, and phrases that have become in a Ah, wanion, will ye?

manner proverbial. To enumerate them would be to

mention every scene in the play. And I must no longer And if I sleep, then percheth he

detain the reader from this most delightful of Shaka With pretty flight;

peare's comedies. And makes a pillow of my knee

Malone places the composition of this play in 1599 The livelong night.

There is no edition known previous to that in the folio Strike I my luce, he lunes the string

of 1623. But it appears among the miscellaneous en. He music plays, if so I sing,

tries of prohibited pieces in the Stauoners' books, with. He lends me every lovely thing;

out any certaju date.
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting
Whist, wanton, still ye?

Schlegel.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Duke, living in exile.

el CORIN, FREDERICK, Brother to the Duke, and Usurper of Sylvius,

Shepherds. his Dominions.

William, a country Fellor, in love with Audrey. AMIENS, Lords attending upon the Duke in his A Person representing Hymen. JAQUES, 3 banishment.

Rosalind, Daughter to the banished Duke. Le Beau, a Courtier attending upon Frederick.

Celia, Daughter to Frederick. CHARLES, his Wresller.

Prebe, a Shepherdess.
OLIVER,

AUDRey, a country Wench.
JAQUES, Sons of Sir Rowland de Bois.
ORLANDO,

Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; Pages, Forest--ADAM,

ers, and other Attendants. DENNIS, Servants to Oliver.

The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House ; after. TOUCHSTONE, a Clown.

wards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and vartii; Sir Oliver Mar-Text, a Vicar.

in the Forest of Arden,

ACT I.

| and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his SCENE I. An Orchard, near Oliver's House.

blessing, to breed me well : and there begins my Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.

sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, Orlando.

and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my

part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion be- more properly, staysa me here at homé unkepi: queathed me' by will : But a poor thousand crowns; For call you that keeping for a gentleman of my

1 Sir W. Blackstone proposed to read, · He bequeath: birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? ed, &c.' Warburton proposed to read, My father be. queathed, &c.' I have followed the old copy, which is 2 The old orthography staies was an easy corruptior. sulliciently intelligible.

of stics ; which Warburton thought the true reading.

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His horses are bred better; for, besides that they Orl. I will no further ofsend you than becomes
are fair with their feeding, they are taught their me for my good.
manage, and to that end riders dearly hired : Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
but I, his brother, gair nothing under him but Adam, Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have
growth: for the which his animals on his dung- lost my teeth in your service. God be with my
hills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this old master! he would not have spoke such a word.
nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the some-

(Exeunt ORLANDO and Adam.
thing that nature gave me, his countenance seems Oli. Is it even so ? begin you to grow upon me?
to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thou-
bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in sand crowns neither. Hola, Dennis !
him lies, mines my gentility with my education.

Enter DENNIS.
This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit

Den, Calls your worship?
of my father, which I think is within me, begins to
mutiny against this servitude : I will no longer en-

Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here
dure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to to speak with me?
a 'oid it.

Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and

importunes access to you. Enter OLIVER,

oli. Call him in. (Exit DENNIS.)—'Twill be a Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how

Enter CHARLES.
he will shake me up:

Cha. Good morrow to your worship.
Oli. Now, sir! what make you bere?'
Orl. Nothing. I am not taught to make any news at the new court !

Oli. Good monsieur Charles !what's the new thing.

Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but the Oli

. What mar you then, sir ? Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that old news; that is, the old duke is banished by his which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, loving lords have put themselves into voluntary ex

younger brother the new duke ; and three or four with idleness.

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be ile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the
Daught awhile.?

new duke; therefore he gives them good leaves to

wander.
Orl. Shall I koep your hogs, and eat husks with
them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I

Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daughshould come to such penury ?

ter,' be banished with her father. Oli. Know you where you are, sir ?

Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her couOrl. O, sir, very well : here in your orchard.

sin, so loves her,-being ever from their cradles Oli. Know you before whom, sir ?

bred together,—that she would have followed her Orl . Ay, better than he: I am before knows me the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his

exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gen: own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they tle condition of blood, you should so know me:

do. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in

Oli. Where will the old duke live? that you are the first-born; but the same tradition akes not away my blood, were there twenty broth- Arden," and a many merry men with him; and

Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of ers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me, there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me s nearer to his reverence,

they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every Oli. What, boy!

day; and fleeito the time carelessly, as they did in Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too

the golden world.

Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new
Young in this

duke?
Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain.
Orl. I am no villain :) I am the youngest son of

Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint Sir Rowland de Bois ; he was my father; and he is you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to unthrice a villain, that says, such a father' begot vil- derstand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath lains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take a disposition to come in disguis’d against me to try this hand from thy throat, till this other had pulled and he that escapes me without some broken limb,

a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast railed on shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young,

*Adam. Sweet masters, be patient ; for your fa- foil him, as í must, for my own honour, if he come
ther's remembrance, be at accord.
Oli. Let me go, I say.

in: therefore out of my love to you, I came hither
Orl
. I will not, till 1 please : you shall hear me; him from his intendment, or brouk such disgrace

to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay My father charged you in his will to give me good well as he shall run into ; 'in that it is a thing of his education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qua

own search, and altogether against my will. lities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. Í

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade me the poor allottery my father left me by testa- him from it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles; ment: with that I will go buy my fortunes.

Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is - it is the stubbornest young fellow of France: full spent? Well, sir, get you in : I will not long be of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's troubled with you: you shall have some part of good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against your will : I pray you, leave me.

me his natural brother; therefore use thy discrerion ;

worthless fellow; and by Orlando, for a man of base 1 i. e. what do you here? See note in Love's La extraction. bour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3.

6 'He gives them good leare. As often as this phrase 2 Be naught auhile. Warburton justly explained occurs, it means a ready assenl. this phrase, which, he says, “is only a north.country 7 i. é. the banished duke's daughter. proverbial curse equivalent to a mischief on you." 3 The first folio reads him, the second he more cor. sufficiently apparent by the words her cousin, yet it has

8 i. e. the usurping duke's daughter ; this may the rectly. 4 Warburton proposed reading 'near his revenue,"

been thought necessary to point out the ambiguity.

9 Ardenne is a forest of considerable extent i. which he explains, though you are no nearer in blood, French Flanders, lying near the river Meuse, and be yet it must be owned that you are nearer in estate.? 6 Villain is used in a double sense : by Oliver for al

tween Charlemont and Rocroy;

10 Fleel, i. e. to flille, to make to pass or flow.

exter, et les

+

I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger:

Enter TOOCKSTONE. and thou wert best look to't; for is thou dost him Cel. No? Whcii nature hath made a fair crea any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace ture, inay she not by fortune fall into the fire ?himself on thee, he will practice against thec by Though nature bath given us wit to fout at forpoison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, tune, hai noi ioriune sent in this fool 10 cut of the and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by argumem ? some indirect mans or other : for, I assure thee, kos. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for naand almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so ture; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutyoung and so villanous this day hvius. I sneak ter (ff of rataie's wit. but brotherly of him; but should I unatomize him Cal. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neito thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou thes, but nature's; who perceiving our natural wits must look pale and wonder.

too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: If natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness he come lo-morrow, I'll give him his payment: If of the fool is the whetstone of his wiis.-How now, ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize wit? whither wander you? more: And so, God keep your worship! (Erit. Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your

Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir father. this gamester;' 'I hope, I shall see an end of him : Cel. Were you made the messenger ? for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more Touch. No, by mine honour; but I was bid :o than he.

Yet he's gentle ; never school'd, and yet come for you. learned ; full of noble device ; of all sorts enchant- Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? ingly beloved ; and, indeed, so much in the heart Touch. Or a certain' knight, that swore by his of the world, and especially of my own people, who honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his best know him, that I am altogether misprised; but honour the mustard was naught; now, I'll stand to it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear it, the pancakes were naughi, and the 'mustard was all : nothing remains, but that I kindle: the boy good ; and yet was not the knight forswom. thither, which now I'll go about.

(Exit. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of

your knowledge ? SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke's Palace.

Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Enter RosaLIND and CELIA.

Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. merry.

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier ? but if you swear bý that that is not, you are not Unless you could teach me to forget a banished fa- forsworn : no more was this knight, swearing by his ther, you must not learn me how to remember any honour, for ho never had any; or if he had, he had extraordinary pleasure.

sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes, Cel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the or that mustard. full weight that I love thee: if my uncle, thy pa

Cel. Pr’ythee, who is't that thou mean'st! nished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, lovos father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could Cel.My father's love is enough to honour him have taught my love to take thy father for mine ; so Enough! speak no more of him; you'll be whipp'a wouldst thou, if the truth of thị love to me were so for taxation, one of these days. righteously temper'd as mine is to thee.

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my es- wisely, what wise men do foolishly. tate, to rejoice in yours.

Cel. By my troth, thou say’st true : for since tho Cel. You know, my father hath no child but I, little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little nor none is like to have ; and, truly, when he dies, foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show thou shalt be his heir: for what he hath taken away Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in

Enter LE BEAU. affection: by mine honour, I will; and when I Ros. With his mouth full of news. break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feeu my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.

Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. sports : let me see; What think you of falling in Cel. All the better; we shall be the more mar. love?

ketable. Bon jour, Monsivur Le Beau: Whai's Cd. Marry, I pr’ythee, do, to make sport withal: the news ? but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further in Le Beau. Fair princess, you have losi much good sport peither, than with safety of a pure blush thou

sport. may'st in honour come off again.

Cel. Sport ? Of what colour ?
Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, swer you?

Le Beau. What colour, madam? how shall I an Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may hence- Ros. As wit and fortune will. forth be bestowed equally.

Touch. Or as the destinies decree. Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel' are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.

Cel. 'Tis true : for those, that she makes fair, Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would havo she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the honest, she makes very ill-favour’dly.

sight of. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning, and, if it the lineaments of nature.

please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the

best is yet to do; and here, where you are, iney are 1 i. e. frolicksome fellow. 2 i. e, of all ranks.

coming to perform it. 3. But that I kindle the boy thither.' He means, that I excite the boy to it.'

6' - you'll be whipp'd for lusation. This was the 4 The old copy reads perceiveth. The folio, 1632, discipline usually inflicted upon prin. reado porceiring

7. Laid on with a trowel.: This is a proverbial phrase 5 This reply to the Clown, in the old copice, is given one yet quite disused. k is, suys Masoti, to do anything to Rosalind. Frederick was however the name of Celia's strongly, and without delicacy. If a inan Inuters gross father, and it is therefore most probable the reply should ly, it is a common exprewion to say, thue he lays it on be herg.

toith a trowel.

their young.

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