That hath abused and dishonour'd me, That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me, While she with harlots feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst thou so? Adr. No, my good lord ;-myself, he, and my To-day did dine together: So befal my soul, Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on But she tells to your highness simple truth! sworn. In this the madman justly chargeth them. Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say; Could witness it, for he was with me then; down, That I this day of him receiv'd the chain. me Ant. E. I never came within these abbey Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is I think you all have drank of Circe's cup. Dro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the Cour. He did; and from my finger snatch'd Ant. E. 'Tis true, my leige, this ring I had of her. Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey I think you are all mated, or stark mad. Haply I see a friend will save my life, Ege. Is not your name, Sir, call'd Autipho- And is not that your bondman Dromio? Which, God he knows, I saw not for the But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords: which, He did arrest me with an officer. I did obey; and sent my peasant home For certain ducats: he with none return'd. To go in person with me to my house. By the way we met, My wife, her sister, and a rabble more of vile confederates; along with them A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, For these deep shames and great indignities. That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. no? Ang. He had, my lord: and when he ran in These people saw the chain about his neck. Heard you confess you had the chain of him, Harlot was a term of reproach applied to cheats among men as well as to wantons among women. Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. Ege. I am sure you both of you remember saw me last; And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand, Ege. Dromio, nor thou? Dro. E. No, trust me, Sir, not I. Dro. E. Ay, Sir; but I am sure, I do not; and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to believe him. Age. Not know my voice; O time's extremity! Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue, In seven short years, that here my only son Ant. E. I never say my father in my life. boy, Thou know'st, we parted but perhaps, my son, Can witness with me that it is not so; Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see him. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other; And so of these: Which is the natural man, And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? Dro. S. I, Sir, am Dromio; command him away. Dro. E. 1, Sir, am Dromio; pray let me stay. Ant. S. Egeon, art thou not? or else his ghost? Dro. S. O my old master! who hath bound him here? Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty :- Ege. If I dream not, thou art Æmilia; Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth By force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamnum ; What then became of them, I cannot tell ; I, to this fortune that you see me in. Duke. Why here begins his morning story right; These two Antipholuses, these two so like, Ant. S. No, Sir, not I; I came from Syracuse. Duke. Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which. Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. Dro. E. And I with him. Ant. E. Brought to this town with that most famous warrior Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day? Ant. S. 1, gentle mistress. Adr. And are you not my husband? Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so; Ang. That is the chain, Sir, which you had of me. Ant. S. I think it be, Sir, I deny it not. Ant. E. And you, Sir, for this chain arrested me. Ang. I think I did, Sir; I deny it not. By Dromio; but I think he brought it not. Adr. I sent you money, Sir, to be your bail, Dro. E. No, none by me. Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from And all that are assembled in this place, The duke, my husband, and my children both, Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior : till then, lead thou first. Dro. E. Nay, then thus: [ther; We came into the world, like brother and bro The morning story is what Egeon tells the Duke in And now let's go hand in hand, not one be. the first scene of this play. fore another. [Exeunt. AS YOU LIKE IT. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. MALONE ascertains the date of this play by the following singular coincidence of an allusion made by Rosalind with a circumstance recorded by Stowe. "I will weep for nothing, (says Rosalind) like Diana in the Fountain.” In 1598, at the east side of the cross in Cheapside, was set up (says the latter in his survey of London,) **s curious wrought tabernacle of grey marble, and, in the same, an alabaster image of Diana, and water, conveyed from the Thames, prilling from her naked breast." A trifling novel or pastoral romance, by Dr. Thomas Lodge, called Euphues's Golden Legacy, is the foundation of As you Like it. In addition to the fable, which is pretty exactly followed, the outlines of certain principal personages may be traced in the novel; but the characters of Jaques, Touchstone, and Audrey, originated entirely with the poet. Few plays contain so much instructive sentiment, poignant satire, luxuriant fancy, and amusing incident, as this: it is altogether "wild and pleasing." The philosophic reader will be no less diverted by the sententions shrewdness of Touchstone, than instructed by the elegant and amiable lessons of the moralizing Jaques.---Shakspeare is sais to have played the part of Adam in As you like it. 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 Enter ORLANDO and ADAM. seems to take from me: he lets me feed with bis hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. That 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 bro ther. Oli. Now, Sir! what make you here ? • 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 Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt bear me rustically at home, or, to speak more pro-how he will shake me up. perly, 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 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 your's, with idleness. Óli. Marry, Sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. • What do you here. |