William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare - Complete Works

Should, in their own confines, with forked heads

Have their round haunches gor'd.

FIRST LORD. Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;

And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp

Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.

To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself

Did steal behind him as he lay along

Under an oak whose antique root peeps out

Upon the brook that brawls along this wood!

To the which place a poor sequest'red stag,

That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,

Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,

The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans

That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat

Almost to bursting; and the big round tears

Cours'd one another down his innocent nose

In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,

Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook,

Augmenting it with tears.

DUKE SENIOR. But what said Jaques?

Did he not moralize this spectacle?

FIRST LORD. O, yes, into a thousand similes.

First, for his weeping into the needless stream:

'Poor deer,' quoth he 'thou mak'st a testament

As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

To that which had too much.' Then, being there alone,

Left and abandoned of his velvet friends:

''Tis right'; quoth he 'thus misery doth part

The flux of company.' Anon, a careless herd,

Full of the pasture, jumps along by him

And never stays to greet him. 'Ay,' quoth Jaques

'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;

'Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look

Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?'

Thus most invectively he pierceth through

The body of the country, city, court,

Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we

Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,

To fright the animals, and to kill them up

In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.

DUKE SENIOR. And did you leave him in this contemplation?

SECOND LORD. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting

Upon the sobbing deer.

DUKE SENIOR. Show me the place;

I love to cope him in these sullen fits,

For then he's full of matter.

FIRST LORD. I'll bring you to him straight. Exeunt

Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS

FREDERICK. Can it be possible that no man saw them?

It cannot be; some villains of my court

Are of consent and sufferance in this.

FIRST LORD. I cannot hear of any that did see her.

The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,

Saw her abed, and in the morning early

They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress.

SECOND LORD. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft

Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.

Hisperia, the Princess' gentlewoman,

Confesses that she secretly o'erheard

Your daughter and her cousin much commend

The parts and graces of the wrestler

That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;

And she believes, wherever they are gone,

That youth is surely in their company.

FREDERICK. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither.

If he be absent, bring his brother to me;

I'll make him find him. Do this suddenly;

And let not search and inquisition quail

To bring again these foolish runaways. Exeunt

Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting

ORLANDO. Who's there?

ADAM. What, my young master? O my gentle master!

O my sweet master! O you memory

Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what make you here?

Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?

Why would you be so fond to overcome

The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke?

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.

Know you not, master, to some kind of men

Their graces serve them but as enemies?

No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

O, what a world is this, when what is comely

Envenoms him that bears it!

ORLANDO. Why, what's the matter?

ADAM. O unhappy youth!

Come not within these doors; within this roof

The enemy of all your graces lives.

Your brother- no, no brother; yet the son-

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 means

To burn the lodging where you use to lie,

And you within it. If he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off;

I overheard him and his practices.

This is no place; this house is but a butchery;

Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

ORLANDO. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

ADAM. No matter whither, so you come not here.

ORLANDO. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,

Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce

A thievish living on the common road?

This I must do, or know not what to do;

Yet this I will not do, do how I can.

I rather will subject me to the malice

Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.

ADAM. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,

The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,

Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,

And unregarded age in corners thrown.

Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,

Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;

All this I give you. Let me be your servant;

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;

For in my youth I never did apply

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,

Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo

The means of weakness and debility;

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,

Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you;

I'll do the service of a younger man

In all your business and necessities.

ORLANDO. O good old man, how well in thee appears

The constant service of the antique world,

When service sweat for duty, not for meed!

Thou art not for the fashion of these times,

Where none will sweat but for promotion,

And having that do choke their service up

Even with the having; it is not so with thee.

But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree

That cannot so much as a blossom yield

In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.

But come thy ways, we'll go along together,

And ere we have thy youthful wages spent

We'll light upon some settled low content.

ADAM. Master, go on; and I will follow the

To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.

From seventeen years till now almost four-score

Here lived I, but now live here no more.

At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,

But at fourscore it is too late a week;

Yet fortune cannot recompense me better

Than to die well and not my master's debtor. Exeunt

Enter ROSALIND for GANYMEDE, CELIA for ALIENA, and CLOWN alias TOUCHSTONE

ROSALIND. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!

TOUCHSTONE. I Care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.

ROSALIND. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel,

and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as

doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat;

therefore, courage, good Aliena.

CELIA. I pray you bear with me; I cannot go no further.

TOUCHSTONE. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you;

yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you; for I think you