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I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see ;—
Write, Lord have m rcy on us, on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and cought it of your eyes:
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens to us.
Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.
Ros. It is not so: For how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue.

Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you.
Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end.
King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude

Some fair excuse.


The fairest is confession.
Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd?
King. Madam, I was.

And were you all advis'd!
King. I was, fair madam.

When you then were here, What did you whisper in your lady's ear? King. That more than all the world I did respect her.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

King. Upon mine honor, no. Prin. Peace, peace, forbear; Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. King. Despise me when I break this oath of mine. Prin. I will; and therefore keep it :-Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your ear!

Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear As precious eye-sight; and did value me Above this world: adding thereto, moreover, That he would wed me or else die my lover. Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord Most honorably doth uphold his word.

King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.

Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

King. My faith, and this the princess, I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :What, will you have me, or your pearl again? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.I see the trick on't ;-Here was a consent, (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy: Some carry tale, some please man, some slight


Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some

That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd,-
Told our intents before: once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favors; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she,
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn; in will, and error.
Much upon this it is :-And might not you,
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye!
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?


You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.


Full merrily Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace; I have done.

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Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope, it is not so;

You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know.

I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,-
Is not nine!
Cost. Under correction; sir, we know whereuntil
it doth amount.

Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. Cost. O, Lord, sir, it were a pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Cost. O, Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to perfect one man,--e en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir. Biron. Art thou one of the worthes!

Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy: but I am to stand for him. Biron. Go bid them prepare.

some care.

Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit COSTARD. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach.

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some policy

To have one show worse than the king's and his

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Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO Converses with the King, and delivers him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron, Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: But we will put it, as they say, to fortunate della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit ARMADO.

King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Trov; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hurcules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus:

And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the

other five.

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Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,— Dum. The great.

Cost. It is great, sir:-Pompey surnem'd the great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make

my foe to sweat:

And, travelling along this coast, 1 here am come by chance;

And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.

A game with dice.

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Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey.

Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect; I made a little fault in great.

Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander,

Py east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might: My'scutcheon piain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender smelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Procced, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;


Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander.

Biron. Pompey the great, Cost. Your servant, and Costard. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Allsander.

Cost. O, sir, To NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poli-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeared to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. NATH. retires). There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbor, in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis;- a little o'erparted:But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter HOLOFERNES arm'd, and MоTH arm'd, for Hercules.

Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp; Whose club kill'd Cerberus that three headed

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Dum. For the salt et vis tame.
Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him;-
Jac-as, away.

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Boy 1. A light for Monsieur Judas: it grows dark, he may stumble.

Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been baited! [Exit HOLOFERNES.

Enter ARMADO arm'd, for Hector. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector!

Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean timber'd.
Long. His leg is too big for Hector.
Dum. More calf, certain.

Boget. No; he is best indued in the small.
Buron. This cannot be Hector.

Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.
Arm. The armipotent Murs, of lances the al-
Gave Hector a gift,-

Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Biron. A lemon.

Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum. No, cloven.

Arm. Peace!

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
A man so breath a, that certain he would fight, yea,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Lion;
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,-
That columbine.
Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rem thy tongue.
Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs
against Hector.

That mint.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breath'd, he was a man.-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, To the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing.

[BIRON whispers COSTARD. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. This Hector für surmounted Hannibal.-Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamomize me among potentates? thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jacquenetta that is quick by him; and hanged, for Poinpey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Bion. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge!

Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, more

Ates; stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's

belly than will sup a flea.

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword:-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me: I will not combat in my shirt.

Ate was the goddess of discord.

Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you fort?
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt.
I go woolward1 for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jacquenetta's and that 'a wears next his heart for a favor.


Mer. God save you, madam!

Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt st our merriment.
Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring,
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father
Prin. Dead, for my life.


Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Birgn. Worthies, away; the scene begins to Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a [Exeunt Worthies.


King. How fares your majesty?
Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say.-I thank you, gracious

For all your fair endeavors; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom, to excuse or hide,
The liberals opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

King. The extreme parts of time extrelmey form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides

That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,

The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost,
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found."

Prin. I understand you not; my griets are double.
Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of

And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humors
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains :
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain :
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true

To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.


We did not quotes them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.


A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in:
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much.
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this,-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning;
If this austere insociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palmi, now kissing thine,
will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death,
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other s heart.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!"
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. And what to me, my love! and what to


Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury;

Therefore, if you my favor mean to get,

A twelvemonth you shall spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. But what to me, my love! but what to me?
Kath. A wife !-A beard, fair health, and ho-

With three-fold love I wish you all these threc.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.

Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria!

At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won.)
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavor of your wit
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of

It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,

Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,

Your favors, the embassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore, met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more
than jest.
Long. So did our looks.

7 Clothed in wool, without linen.

Free to excess.

Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then if sickly years,
Dear'd with the calmors of their own dear groans
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

• Regard.

1 Clothing.

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Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,-
Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jacquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? It should have followed in the end of our show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm. Holla! approach.

TARD, and others.

This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.


Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue,

And lady smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!


When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,

And maidens bleach their summer smocks
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

Winter. When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way; we, this way.

& Scum.

[Exeunt ■ Wild apples.



PRINCE OF MOROCCO, Suitors to Portia.


ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice

BASSANIO, his Friend.


SALARINO, Friends to Antonio and Bassanio.


LORENZO, in love with Jessica.


TUBAL, & Jew, his friend.

LAUNCELOT GOBBо, a Clown, Servant to Shylock.

Old GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.
SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.


Servants to Portia.

PORTIA, a rich Heiress.

NERISSA, her Waiting-Maid.
JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of
Justice, Guoler, Servants and other Attendants.

SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.

SCENE I-Venice. A Street.

Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,-
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,-
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,


That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Satan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object, that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

My wing, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand.
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stones,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks?
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Eurobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing! Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad?
But, tell not me; I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandize.

Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed

Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And others of such vinegar aspect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughter.

Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble


Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you

If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Satur. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so?
Sutar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found


We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass, I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
A stage where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.


Let me play the Fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.
Salan. Why then you are in love.


Fye, fye! Sulan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad,

1 Ships of large burden.


2 Lowering.


Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks;
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
3 Obstinate silence.

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