I pray you, know me, when we meet again, Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further; Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 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; I will not shame myself to give you this. Por. I will have nothing else but only this; And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. Bass. There's more depends on this than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, Only for this, I pray you pardon me. Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: And, when she put it on, she made me vow, Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. An if your wife be not a mad woman, ACT V. SCENE I. - Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House. Enter LORENZO and JESSICA. Lor. The moon shines bright: -In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, Jes. Lor. In such a night, Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love To come again to Carthage. Jes. In such a night, Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs That did renew old son. Lor. In such a night, Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew: And with an unthrift love did run from Venice, As far as Belmont. And ceremoniously let us prepare Enter LAUNCELOT. Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola! Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola! Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning. [Exit. Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter; - Why should we go in? [Exit STEPHANO. Enter Musicians. Lor. The reason is your spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, r any air of musick touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of musick: Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Musick! hark! Ner. It is your musick, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect; Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Or I am much deceiv'd of Portia. Dear lady, welcome home. Por. We have been praying for our husbands' [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. It looks a little paler; 'tis a day, Such as the day is when the sun is hid. Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my friend. This is the man, this is Antonio, To whom I am so infinitely bound. Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy. [GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong, In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: 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 nos. Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death; And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective, and have kept it. Gave it a judge's clerk! —but well I know, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, that had it. Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man, Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy, A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee; I could not for my heart deny it him. Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. I gave my love a ring, and made him swear Never to part with it; and here he stands ; I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear, I lost the ring defending it. [Aside. Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine: And neither man, nor master, would take aught But the two rings. Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, I would deny it; but you see, my finger Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring. Ner. Till I again see mine. Bass. Nor I in yours, Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring. My honour would not let ingratitude Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : I'll not deny him any thing I have, No, not my body, nor my husband's bed: Know him I shall, I am well sure of it: Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus; Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, 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 : Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, I never more will break an oath with thee. Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth; Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, [TO PORTIA. Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly. Por. Then you shall be his surety: Give him this; And bid him keep it better than the other. Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; For by this ring the doctor lay with me. Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high-ways It comes from Padua, from Bellario: Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, And I have better news in store for you, No woman had it, but a civil doctor, Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? I was beset with shame and courtesy : Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me cuckold? Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man. Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; When I am absent, then lie wid my wife. Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and living; For here I read for certain, that my ships Por. Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. Por. It is almost morning, And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied Gra. Let it be so; The first intergatory, [Exeunt. The SCENE lies, first, near OLIVER's House; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in the Forest of ARDEN. ACT I. SCENE I.- An Orchard, near Oliver's House. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me: By will, but a poor thousand crowns: and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept: For call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a 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. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. Oli. What mar you then, sir? Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better 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, sir? Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. 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 courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. |