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It must appear in other ways than words,
[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.
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? 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 respective3, 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, No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; 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 upon 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.
What ring gave you, my lord?
I would deny it; but you see my finger
Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
Till I again see mine.
Nor I in yours,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
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 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,
Mark you but that! In both mine eyes he doubly sees himself: In each eye, one: - swear by your double self, And there's an oath of credit.
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 4: 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. - You are all amaz'd: Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?
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 with my wife.
Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and living;
For here I read for certain, that my ships
The SCENE lies, first, near Oliver's House; afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, and partly in
the Forest of Arden.
SCENE LA Orchard, near Oliver's House.
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.
Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeath'd 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 gavo me, his countenance seems to take from ine: 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.
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.
Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours,
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, tha: I should come to such penury?
Oli. Know you where you are, sir?
Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me.
What do you here?