William Shakespeare - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

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 boisterous 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 thee

To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.—

From seventeen years till now almost fourscore

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.]

SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden

[Enter ROSALIND in boy’s clothes, CELIA dressed like a shepherdess, and 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 can 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 have no money in your purse.

ROSALIND

Well, this is the forest of Arden.

TOUCHSTONE

Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

ROSALIND

Ay, be so, good Touchstone.—Look you, who comes here?, a young man and an old in solemn talk.

[Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.]

CORIN

That is the way to make her scorn you still.

SILVIUS

O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!

CORIN

I partly guess; for I have lov’d ere now.

SILVIUS

No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess;

Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover

As ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow:

But if thy love were ever like to mine,—

As sure I think did never man love so,—

How many actions most ridiculous

Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?

CORIN

Into a thousand that I have forgotten.

SILVIUS

O, thou didst then never love so heartily:

If thou remember’st not the slightest folly

That ever love did make thee run into,

Thou hast not lov’d:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,

Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,

Thou hast not lov’d:

Or if thou hast not broke from company

Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,

Thou hast not lov’d: O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!

[Exit Silvius.]

ROSALIND

Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,

I have by hard adventure found mine own.

TOUCHSTONE

And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing of her batlet, and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chapp’d hands had milk’d: and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from whom I took two cods, and giving her them again, said with weeping tears, “Wear these for my sake.” We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

ROSALIND

Thou speak’st wiser than thou art ‘ware of.

TOUCHSTONE

Nay, I shall ne’er be ‘ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it.

ROSALIND

Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion

Is much upon my fashion.

TOUCHSTONE

And mine: but it grows something stale with me.

CELIA

I pray you, one of you question yond man

If he for gold will give us any food:

I faint almost to death.

TOUCHSTONE

Holla, you clown!

ROSALIND

Peace, fool; he’s not thy kinsman.

CORIN

Who calls?

TOUCHSTONE

Your betters, sir.

CORIN

Else are they very wretched.

ROSALIND

Peace, I say.—

Good even to you, friend.

CORIN

And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.

ROSALIND

I pr’ythee, shepherd, if that love or gold

Can in this desert place buy entertainment,

Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:

Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d,

And faints for succour.

CORIN

Fair sir, I pity her,

And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,

My fortunes were more able to relieve her:

But I am shepherd to another man,

And do not shear the fleeces that I graze:

My master is of churlish disposition,

And little recks to find the way to heaven

By doing deeds of hospitality:

Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed,

Are now on sale; and at our sheepcote now,

By reason of his absence, there is nothing

That you will feed on; but what is, come see,

And in my voice most welcome shall you be.

ROSALIND

What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?

CORIN

That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,

That little cares for buying anything.

ROSALIND

I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,

Buy thou the cottage, pasture, and the flock,

And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.

CELIA

And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,

And willingly could waste my time in it.