Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is. Por. He hath refus'd 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. If it be prov'd against an alien, The party, 'gainst the which he doth contrive, Gra. Beg that thou may'st have leave to hang thyAnd yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, [self: Thou hast not left the value of a cord; [spirit, Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio. 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. Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. [fathers; Gra. In christening, thou shalt have two godHad I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit SHYLOCK. 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. 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. Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied: Buss. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further; 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; Bass. There's more depends on this than on the Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife, Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their And if your wife be not a mad woman, [gifts. And know how well I have deserv'd 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 canʼst, Unto Antonio's house :-away, make haste. And so, I pray you, tell him: Furthermore, Ner. Por. Thou may'st, I warrant; We shall have old swearing, That they did give the rings away to men; ACT V. [Exeunt. Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? Steph. A friend. [you, friend? Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray 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.-- Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 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. 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? Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, at a distance. 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 [Music ceases. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. [cuckoo, Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the 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. Lor. Madam, they are not yet; Go in, Nerissa, [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. Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord. 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 cutler's poetry Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not. Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it. Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 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. [Aside Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Por. Even so void is your faise heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring. Nor I in yours, Sweet Portia, Ner. Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, I was beset with shame and courtesy: Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : I'll not deny him any thing I have, Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus; Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis d, Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. | Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome; Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome not withstanding. 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 : Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. 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 • Of THE MERCHANT OF VENICE the style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construction. The comic part raises laughter, and the serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of two actions in one And I have better news in store for you, I am dumb. cuckold? 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 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. event is in this drama eminently happy. Dryden was much pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, I believe, the critic will find excelled by this play-JOHNSON. AS YOU LIKE IT. printed at the same time, but no copy of such an edition has been discovered. The plot of the play was taken from Lodge's Rosalynd, or Euphue's Golden Legacye, 4to. 1590. And Shakspeare has followed the novel more exactly than is his general custom when he is indebted to such worthless originals. He has sketched some of his principal characters, and borrowed a few expressions from it. His imitations, &c. however, are in general too insignificant to merit transcription. THOUGH this exquisite comedy appears to have been first pub- should be observed, that the characters of Jaques, the Clown, and Audrey, are entirely of the poet's own formation. CORIN, SILVIUS, shepherds. WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. Lords belonging to the two Dukes; Pages, Foresters, and other Attendants. The SCENE lies, first, near OLIVER's House; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and parily in the Forest of ARDEN. ACT I. SCENE I.-An Orchard, near Oliver's House. Enter ORLANDO, and ADAM. 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. Ord. I will no further offend you than becomes me for any good. 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 Oli. Get you with him, you old dog. not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred Adam. Is old dog my reward? Most true, I have better; for, besides that they are fair with their feed-lost my teeth in your service.-God be with my old ing, they are taught their manage, and to that end master! he would not have spoke such a word. 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. 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. 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? Oli. Know you where you are, [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. Holla, Dennis! Enter DENNIS. 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? 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 Cha. They say, he is already in the forest of Arden, courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you and a many merry men with him; and there they live are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the us: I have as much of my father in me, as you; al-time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. beit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. 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 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, |