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 House. Oli. What, boy! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? Orl. I am no villain: I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain, that says such a father begot villains: Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other hand pulled out thy tongue for saying so; thou hast railed on thyself. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fash-brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father ion bequeath'd me: By will, but a poor thousand in me, as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before crowns; and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, me is nearer to his reverence. on his blessing, to breed ine 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 gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: 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. Enter Oliver. 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. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ'd, and be naught awhile. Ort, Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oi. Know you where you are sir? Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows me. Adam. Sweet masters, be patient; for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. Ort. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it; therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentle man, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my for tunes. Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you: you shall have some part of your will; I pray you, leave me. Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. Oi. Get you with him, you old dog Enter DENNIS. Oi. Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? a Villain is used in a double sense; by Oliver, for worthless fellow and by Orlando, in a man of ban extraction. Den. So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes access to you. Oli. Call him in. Exit DENNIS.-Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Enter CHARLES. Cha. Good morrow to your worship. Oli. Good monsieur Charles!-what's the new news at the new court? Chu. There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. Oli. Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's daugh ter, be banished with her father? Cha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin. so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile. or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. Oli. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say, many young gentlemen flock to him every day; and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand, that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against me to try a fall: To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb, shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young. and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honor, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. 1 had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein, and have by underhand means labored to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I'll tell thee. Charles, he is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother; therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou do'st him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. Cha. I am heartily glad, I came hither to you; If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: If ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: And so, God keep your worship! [Exil. Oli. Farewell, good Charles.-Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shal see an end of him: for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle; never school'd, and yet learned; full of noble device: of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and, indeed, so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear a'l: nothing remains, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I'll go about. [Exil. SCENE II.—A Lawn before the Duke's Palace. Enter ROSALIND and CELIA. mistress of: and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you would teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Čel. Herein, I see, thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee: if my ancle, thy ban ished father, had banished thy uncle, the Juke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously temper'd as mine is to thee. Ros. Well, I will forfeit the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have; and, truly, when he dies thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in aflection; by mine honor, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports; let me see; What think you of falling in love? Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in Sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honor come off again. Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts may hence forth be bestowed equally. Ros. I would, we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced: and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. Cel. 'Tis true: for those, that she makes fair, she scarce makes honest; and those, that she makes honest, she makes very ill-favor dly. Ros. Nay, now thou goest from fortune's office to nature's: fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of nature. Enter TOUCHSTONE. Cel. No? When nature hath made a fair creature may she not by fortune fall into the fire ?-Though nature hath given us wit to flout at fortune, hath not fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed, there is fortune too hard for nature; when fortune makes nature's natural the cutter off of nature's wit. Cel. Peradventure, this is not fortune's work neither, but nature's: who perceiving our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this natural for our whetstone: for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of his wits.-How now, wit? whither wander you? Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father. Cel. Where you made the messenger! Touch. No, by mine honor; but I was bid to come for you. Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by his honor they were good pancakes, and swore by his honor the mustard was naught: now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught, and the mustard was good; and yet was not the knight forsworn. Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge! Ros. Ay, marry; now unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave, Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were: but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honor, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. Cel. Prythee, who is't that thou mean'st? Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honor him. Enough! speak no more of him: you'll be whipp'd for taxation, one of these days. Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly. Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true: for since the little wit, that fools have, was silenced, the little foolery, that wise men have, makes a great show Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. Satire. AS YOU LIKE IT. Enter LE BEAU. Ros. With his mouth full of news. ACT L. or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt. Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to their young. Ros. Then shall we be news-cramm'd. Le Brau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. Cel. Sport? Of what color? Le Brau. What color, madam? Ros. As wit and fortune will. How shall I the duke, that the wrest ing night not go forward. Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. but Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious: if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world Cel. Well said; that was laid on with a trowel. no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies; I would have Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Cel. Well,-the beginning, that is dead and Le Beau. There comes an old man, and his three Bons, Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence; Ros. With bills on their necks,-Be it known unto all men by these presents, Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third: Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping. Ros. Alas! Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day! it is the first time that I ever heard, breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking-Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? Le Beau. You must, if you stay here: for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: Let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, LORDS, Or- Duke F. Come on; since the youth will not be Le Bean. Even he, madam. Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks successfully. Duke F. How now, daughter, and cousin? are you crept hither to see the wrestling? Ros. Ay, my liege! so please you give us leave. tell you, there is such odds in the men: In pity of Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can the challenger's youth, I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated: Speak to him, ladies, see if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. call for you. Orl. I attend them, with all respect and duty. Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler!" Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years: You have seen cruel proot of this man's strength; if you saw yourself with your eyes world I fill up a place which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be deceived in you! Čel. Your heart's desires be with you. Cha. Come where is this young gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. Duke F. You shall try but one fall. entreat him to a second, that have so mightily perCha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall not suaded him from a first. not have mocked me before: but come your ways. tell who should down. [CHARLES is throum. Shout. Duke F. How dost thou, Charles? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois. Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some T'he world esteem'd thy father honorable, Hadst thou descended from another house. [Exeunt DUKE FRED., Train, and LE BEAU. To be adopted heir to Frederick. Ros. My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul, Gentle cousin, If you do keep your promises in love, means. Are all thrown down; and that which here stands up, Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with my The object to dart at in martial exercises. I'll ask him what he would:-Did you call, sir?- Cel. Will you go, coz? Ros. Have with you:-Fare you well. [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. Re-enter LE BEAU. O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown: Or Charles, or something weaker, masters thee. Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet indeed, the shorter is his daughter: I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. SCENE III-A Room in the Palace. [Exit. Thus do all traitors; If their purgation did consist in words, Ros. So was I, when your highness took his dukedom; So was I, when your highness banish'd him: Or, if we derive it from our friends, Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, It was your pleasure and your own remorse: I was too young that time to value her. But now I know her: if she be a traitor, Why so am I; we still have slept together, And wheresoe'r we went, like Juno's swans, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtile for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence, and her patience, Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind ;-Cupid have And thou wilt show more bright and seem more mercy!-Not a word? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs, throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons, and the other mad without any. Cel. But is all this for your father? Ros. No, some of it for my father's child: O, how full of briars is this working-day world! Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could shake them off my coat; these burs are in my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try; if I could cry hem, and have him. Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall.-But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? Ros. The duke my father lov'd his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue, that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. Ros. No; hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? Ros. Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I do:-Look, here comes the duke. Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords. Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, • Temper, disposition. virtuous, When she is gone: then open not thy lips; I cannot live out of her company. Duke F. You are a fool:-You, niece, provide yourself; And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords. Cel. O, my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. charged thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ; Prythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke Cel. To seek my uncle. Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far? Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. And with a kind of umber smirch my face; Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man; A dusky, yellow colored earth. • Compassion. SCENE I-The Forest of Arden. Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, 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 public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,Being native burgers of this desert city,Should in their own confines, with forked heads Have their round haunches gored. 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, To that which had too much: Then, being alone, And never stays to greet him; 4, quoth Jaques, Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation? 2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke S. Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits," 2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants. 1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. If he be absent, bring his brother to me, [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Before Oliver's House. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting. Orl. 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? O, what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? O unhappy yout 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; Sink into dejection Inconsiderate |