ACT II. SCENE I. Oliver's Orchard and House. Enter Orlando, and knocks at the Door. Orl. WHO's there? Enter Adam. 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? O, what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? Adam. O unhappy youth, Come not within these doors; within this roof your graces lives: Hath heard your praises; and this night he means He will have other means to cut you off: This is no place, this house is but a butchery; Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce I rather will subject me to the malice Adam. But do not so: I have five hundred crowns, Orl. 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, [Exit. SCENE II. The Forest of Arden. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, and four other Lords, all in the dress of Foresters. Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods. More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference: as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,— This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from publick haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing: I would not change it. Ami, Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? Should, in their own confines, with forked heads Jaq. Indeed, my lord, I've often griev'd at that; An oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: Duke S. But what said you? Did you not moralize this spectacle ? Jaq. O, yes, into a thousand similies. First, for his weeping in the needless stream ; look The body of the country, city, court, Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, I love to cope you in these sullen fits, [Exeunt. SCENE III. An Apartment in the Palace. Flourish of Drums and Trumpets. Enter Duke Frederick, Eustace, Louis, Gentlemen, and Guards. Duke F. Can it be possible, that no man saw them? It cannot be some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. Louis. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early, They found the bed untreasur'd of their mistress. Eust. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hesperia, 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. Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant · hither; I'll make him find him: do this suddenly; [Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.] [Exeunt, |