Chapter XXI: Part 21

Por. Enquire the Iewes house out, giue him this deed, And let him signe it, wee'll away to night, And be a day before our husbands home: This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Faire sir, you are well ore-tane: My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice, Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat Your company at dinner

Por. That cannot be; His ring I doe accept most thankfully, And so I pray you tell him: furthermore, I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house

Gra. That will I doe

Ner. Sir, I would speake with you: Ile see if I can get my husbands ring Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer

Por. Thou maist I warrant, we shal haue old swearing That they did giue the rings away to men; But weele out-face them, and out-sweare them to: Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry

Ner. Come good sir, will you shew me to this house.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Lorenzo and Iessica.

Lor. The moone shines bright. In such a night as this, When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees, And they did make no noyse, in such a night Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls, And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents Where Cressed lay that night

Ies. In such a night Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe, And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe, And ranne dismayed away

Loren. In such a night Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue To come againe to Carthage

Ies. In such a night Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs That did renew old Eson

Loren. In such a night Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe, And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice, As farre as Belmont

Ies. In such a night Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well, Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith, And nere a true one

Loren. In such a night Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow) Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her

Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come: But harke, I heare the footing of a man. Enter Messenger.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Mes. A friend

Loren. A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend? Mes. Stephano is my name, and I bring word My Mistresse will before the breake of day Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes For happy wedlocke houres

Loren. Who comes with her? Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid: I pray you is my Master yet return'd? Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him, But goe we in I pray thee Iessica, And ceremoniously let vs prepare Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house, Enter Clowne.

Clo. Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola

Loren. Who calls?
Clo. Sola, did you see M[aster]. Lorenzo, & M[aster]. Lorenzo,
sola,
Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere

Clo. Sola, where, where?
Lor. Heere?
Clo. Tel him ther's a Post come from my Master, with
his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere
morning sweete soule

Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming. And yet no matter: why should we goe in? My friend Stephen, signifie pray you Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand, And bring your musique foorth into the ayre. How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke, Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night Become the tutches of sweet harmonie: Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold, There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst But in his motion like an Angell sings, Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins; Such harmonie is in immortall soules, But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it: Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne, With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare, And draw her home with musicke

Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.

Play musicke.

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue: For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their bloud, If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound, Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares, You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand, Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods. Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But musicke for time doth change his nature, The man that hath no musicke in himselfe, Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles, The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections darke as Erobus, Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke. Enter Portia and Nerrissa.

Por. That light we see is burning in my hall: How farre that little candell throwes his beames, So shines a good deed in a naughty world

Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle? Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lesse, A substitute shines brightly as a King Vntill a King be by, and then his state Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.

Musicke.

Ner. It is your musicke Madame of the house

Por. Nothing is good I see without respect,
Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day?
Ner. Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam

Por. The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke When neither is attended: and I thinke The Nightingale if she should sing by day When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought No better a Musitian then the Wren? How many things by season, season'd are To their right praise, and true perfection: Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion, And would not be awak'd.

Musicke ceases.

Lor. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia

Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the Cuckow by the bad voice? Lor. Deere Lady welcome home? Por. We haue bene 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 signifie their comming

Por. Go in Nerrissa, Giue order to my seruants, that they take No note at all of our being absent hence, Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you.

A Tucket sounds.

Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet,
We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not

Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke, It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day, Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid. Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers.

Bas. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walke in absence of the sunne

Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light, For a light wife doth make a heauie husband, And neuer be Bassanio so for me, But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord

Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend This is the man, this is Anthonio, To whom I am so infinitely bound

Por. You should in all sence be much bound to him,
For as I heare he was much bound for you

Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of

Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house: It must appeare in other waies then words, Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie

Gra. By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong, Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke, Would he were gelt that had it for my part, Since you do take it Loue so much at hart

Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter? Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring That she did giue me, whose Poesie was For all the world like Cutlers Poetry Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not

Ner. What talke you of the Poesie or the valew: You swore to me when I did giue it you, That you would weare it til the houre of death, And that it should lye with you in your graue, Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it. Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it

Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man

Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man

Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth, A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy, No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke, A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee, I could not for my heart deny it him

Por. You were too blame, I must be plaine with you, To part so slightly with your wiues first gift, A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger, And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh. I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands: I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it, Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano, You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe, And 'twere to me I should be mad at it

Bass. Why I were best to cut my left hand off,
And sweare I lost the Ring defending it

Gra. My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine, And neyther man nor master would take ought But the two Rings

Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord?
Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me

Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault, I would deny it: but you see my finger Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone

Por. Euen so voide is your false heart of truth. By heauen I wil nere come in your bed Vntil I see the Ring

Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe see mine

Bass. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring, If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring, And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring, And how vnwillingly I left the Ring, When nought would be accepted but the Ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure? Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring, Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring, Or your owne honour to containe the Ring, You would not then haue parted with the Ring: What man is there so much vnreasonable, If you had pleas'd to haue defended it With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie: Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue, Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring? Bass. No by mine honor Madam, by my soule No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor, Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me, And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him, And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away: Euen he that had held vp the verie life Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady? I was inforc'd to send it after him, I was beset with shame and curtesie, My honor would not let ingratitude So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady, And by these blessed Candles of the night, Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor? Por. Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house, Since he hath got the iewell that I loued, And that which you did sweare to keepe for me, I will become as liberall as you, Ile not deny him any thing I haue, No, not my body, nor my husbands bed: Know him I shall, I am well sure of it. Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos, If you doe not, if I be left alone, Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne, Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow

Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd
How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection

Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then,
For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen

Ant. I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels

Por. Sir, grieue not you,
You are welcome notwithstanding

Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong, And in the hearing of these manie friends I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes Wherein I see my selfe

Por. Marke you but that? In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe: In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe, And there's an oath of credit

Bas. Nay, but heare me. Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare I neuer more will breake an oath with thee

Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth, Which but for him that had your husbands ring Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe, My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie

Por. Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this,
And bid him keepe it better then the other

Ant. Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring

Bass. By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor

Por. I had it of him: pardon Bassanio,
For by this ring the Doctor lay with me

Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano, For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke In liew of this, last night did lye with me

Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough: What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it

Por. Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd; Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure, It comes from Padua from Bellario, There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor, Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you, And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome, And I haue better newes in store for you Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone, There you shall finde three of your Argosies Are richly come to harbour sodainlie. You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter

Antho. I am dumbe

Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not?
Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold

Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it,
Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man

Bass. (Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow,
When I am absent, then lie with my wife

An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing; For heere I reade for certaine that my ships Are safelie come to Rode

Por. How now Lorenzo?
My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you

Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee. There doe I giue to you and Iessica From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift After his death, of all he dies possess'd of

Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way
Of starued people

Por. It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in, And charge vs there vpon intergatories, And we will answer all things faithfully

Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day, But were the day come, I should wish it darke, Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke. Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Merchant of Venice.

As you Like it

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother on his blessing to breed mee well: and there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding, they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder him but growth, for the which his Animals on his dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing that he so plentifully giues me, the something that nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam that grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to auoid it. Enter Oliuer.

Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother

Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how
he will shake me vp

Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere?
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 poore vnworthy brother of yours with
idlenesse

Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught
a while

Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with
them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should
come to such penury?
Oli. Know you where you are sir?
Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard

Oli. Know you before whom sir? Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud, were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming before me is neerer to his reuerence

Oli. What Boy

Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine? Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying so, thou hast raild on thy selfe

Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers
remembrance, be at accord

Oli. Let me goe I say

Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education: you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my father left me by testament, with that I will goe 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 haue some part of your will, I pray you leaue me

Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee
for my good

Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge

Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master, he would not haue spoke such a word.

Ex. Orl. Ad.

Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand crownes neyther: holla Dennis. Enter Dennis.

Den. Calls your worship?
Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to
speake with me?
Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes
accesse to you

Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow the wrastling is. Enter Charles.

Cha. Good morrow to your worship

Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes at the new Court? Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he giues them good leaue to wander

Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee banished with her Father? Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies loued as they doe

Oli. Where will the old Duke liue? Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they liue like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time carelesly as they did in the golden world

Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new
Duke

Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search, and altogether against my will

Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it; but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him, but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and wonder

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and so God keepe your worship. Enter.

Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now Ile goe about. Enter.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Rosalind, and Cellia.

Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry

Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure

Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate,
to reioyce in yours

Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose, be merry

Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports: let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue? Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther, then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor come off againe

Ros. What shall be our sport then?
Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune
from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee
bestowed equally

Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women

Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very illfauouredly

Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures: Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. Enter Clowne.

Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this foole to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures witte

Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether wander you? Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father

Cel. Were you made the messenger?
Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you
Ros. Where learned you that oath foole?
Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour
they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the
Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes
were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was
not the Knight forsworne

Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your
knowledge?
Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome

Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes,
and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue

Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art

Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard

Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't?
Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues

Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough; speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one of these daies

Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely,
what Wisemen do foolishly

Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur the Beu. Enter le Beau.

Ros. With his mouth full of newes

Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their
young

Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd

Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable.
Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes?
Le Beu. Faire Princesse,
you haue lost much good sport

Cel. Sport: of what colour?
Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer
you?
Ros. As wit and fortune will

Clo. Or as the destinies decrees

Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell

Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke

Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell

Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told
you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of

Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling

Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to performe it

Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried

Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale

Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth
and presence

Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto
all men by these presents

Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father, making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping

Ros. Alas

Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies
haue lost?
Le Beu. Why this that I speake of

Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport for Ladies

Cel. Or I, I promise thee

Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin? Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to performe it

Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay
and see it.

Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants.

Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated
His owne perill on his forwardnesse

Ros. Is yonder the man?
Le Beu. Euen he, Madam

Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully
Du. How now daughter, and Cousin:
Are you crept hither to see the wrastling?
Ros. I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue

Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can mooue him

Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu

Duke. Do so: Ile not be by

Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals
for you

Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie

Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the Wrastler? Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger, I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth

Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie, and giue ouer this attempt

Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that the wrastling might not go forward

Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall; wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing: onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better supplied, when I haue made it emptie

Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were
with you

Cel. And mine to eeke out hers

Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you

Cel. Your hearts desires be with you

Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so
desirous to lie with his mother earth?
Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest
working

Duk. You shall trie but one fall

Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him from a first

Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not
haue mockt me before: but come your waies

Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man

Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow
by the legge.

Wrastle.

Ros. Oh excellent yong man

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who
should downe.

Shout.

Duk. No more, no more

Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well
breath'd

Duk. How do'st thou Charles?
Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord

Duk. Beare him awaie:
What is thy name yong man?
Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland
de Boys

Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else, The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did finde him still mine enemie: Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede, Hadst thou descended from another house: But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth, I would thou had'st told me of another Father.

Exit Duke.

Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this?
Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne,
His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling
To be adopted heire to Fredricke

Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule, And all the world was of my Fathers minde, Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne, I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties, Ere he should thus haue ventur'd

Cel. Gentle Cosen, Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him: My Fathers rough and enuious disposition Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd, If you doe keepe your promises in loue; But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise, Your Mistris shall be happie

Ros. Gentleman, Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes. Shall we goe Coze? Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman

Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke

Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes, Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir? Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne More then your enemies

Cel. Will you goe Coze?
Ros. Haue with you: fare you well.
Enter.

Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong? I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference. Enter Le Beu.

O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee

Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you To leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd High commendation, true applause, and loue; Yet such is now the Dukes condition, That he misconsters all that you haue done: The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of

Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this, Which of the two was daughter of the Duke, That here was at the Wrastling? Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners, But yet indeede the taller is his daughter, The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke, And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters: But I can tell you, that of late this Duke Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece, Grounded vpon no other argument, But that the people praise her for her vertues, And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake; And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well, Hereafter in a better world then this, I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you

Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. Thus must I from the smoake into the smother, From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother. But heauenly Rosaline.

Exit

Scena Tertius.

Enter Celia and Rosaline.

Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie,
Not a word?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee with reasons

Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any

Cel. But is all this for your Father?
Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh
how full of briers is this working day world

Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths our very petty-coates will catch them

Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are
in my heart

Cel. Hem them away

Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him

Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections

Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then
my selfe

Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne? Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando

Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well?
Enter Duke with Lords.

Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him
Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke

Cel. With his eies full of anger

Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste,
And get you from our Court

Ros. Me Vncle

Duk. You Cosen, Within these ten daies if that thou beest found So neere our publike Court as twentie miles, Thou diest for it

Ros. I doe beseech your Grace Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me: If with my selfe I hold intelligence, Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires, If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke, (As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle, Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne, Did I offend your highnesse

Duk. Thus doe all Traitors, If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace it selfe; Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor;
Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends?
Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough

Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome, So was I when your highnesse banisht him; Treason is not inherited my Lord, Or if we did deriue it from our friends, What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor, Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much, To thinke my pouertie is treacherous

Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake

Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Else had she with her Father rang'd along

Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay, It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse, I was too yong that time to value her, But now I know her: if she be a Traitor, Why so am I: we still haue slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together, And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans, Still we went coupled and inseperable

Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes; Her verie silence, and her patience, Speake to the people, and they pittie her: Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name, And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous When she is gone: then open not thy lips Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe, Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige,
I cannot liue out of her companie

Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe, If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor, And in the greatnesse of my word you die.

Exit Duke, &c.

Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe? Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine: I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am

Ros. I haue more cause

Cel. Thou hast not Cosen,
Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not

Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one, Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle? No, let my Father seeke another heire: Therefore deuise with me how we may flie Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs, And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you, To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out: For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale; Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee

Ros. Why, whether shall we goe?
Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden

Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs, (Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre? Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold

Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire, And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face, The like doe you, so shall we passe along, And neuer stir assailants

Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more then common tall, That I did suite me all points like a man, A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh, A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart Lye there what hidden womans feare there will, Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside, As manie other mannish cowards haue, That doe outface it with their semblances

Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
But what will you be call'd?
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena

Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court: Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile? Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me, Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away And get our Iewels and our wealth together, Deuise the fittest time, and safest way To hide vs from pursuite that will be made After my flight: now goe in we content To libertie, and not to banishment.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like Forresters.

Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile: Hath not old custome made this life more sweete Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods More free from perill then the enuious Court? Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam, The seasons difference, as the Icie phange And churlish chiding of the winters winde, Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly perswade me what I am: Sweet are the vses of aduersitie Which like the toad, ougly and venemous, Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head: And this our life exempt from publike haunt, Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes, Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing

Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a stile

Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison? And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles Being natiue Burgers of this desert City, Should in their owne confines with forked heads Haue their round hanches goard

1.Lord. Indeed my Lord The melancholy Iaques grieues at that, And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you: To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe, Did steale behinde him as he lay along Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood, To the which place a poore sequestred Stag That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt, Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat Almost to bursting, and the big round teares Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole, Much marked of the melancholie Iaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke, Augmenting it with teares

Du.Sen. But what said Iaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? 1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies. First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame; Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more To that which had too much: then being there alone, Left and abandoned of his veluet friend; 'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard Full of the pasture, iumps along by him And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques, Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens, 'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there? Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through The body of Countrie, Citie, Court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp In their assign'd and natiue dwelling place

D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation?
2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting
Vpon the sobbing Deere

Du.Sen. Show me the place, I loue to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter

1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Duke, with Lords.

Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be, some villaines of my Court Are of consent and sufferance in this

1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her, The Ladies her attendants of her chamber Saw her a bed, and in the morning early, They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris

2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft, Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing, Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman Confesses that she secretly ore-heard Your daughter and her Cosen much commend The parts and graces of the Wrastler That did but lately foile the synowie Charles, And she beleeues where euer they are gone That youth is surely in their companie

Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither, If he be absent, bring his Brother to me, Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly; And let not search and inquisition quaile, To bring againe these foolish runawaies.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Orlando and Adam.

Orl. Who's there? Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master, Oh my sweet master, O you memorie Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here? Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? Why would you be so fond to ouercome The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men, Their graces serue them but as enemies, No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master Are sanctified and holy traitors to you: Oh what a world is this, when what is comely Enuenoms him that beares it? Why, what's the matter? Ad. O vnhappie youth, Come not within these doores: within this roofe The enemie of all your graces liues Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne (Yet not the son, I will not call him son) Of him I was about to call his Father, Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes, To burne the lodging where you vse to lye, And you within it: if he faile of that He will haue other meanes to cut you off; I ouerheard him: and his practises: This is no place, this house is but a butcherie; Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it

Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go?
Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here

Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food, Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce A theeuish liuing on the common rode? This I must do, or know not what to do: Yet this I will not do, do how I can, I rather will subiect me to the malice Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother

Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes, The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father, Which I did store to be my foster Nurse, When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame, And vnregarded age in corners throwne, Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede, Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow, Be comfort to my age: here is the gold, All this I giue you, let me be your seruant, Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie; For in my youth I neuer did apply Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud, Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe, The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie, Therefore my age is as a lustie winter, Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you, Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man In all your businesse and necessities