ACT I SCENE I | Orchard of Oliver's house. | |
[Enter ORLANDO and ADAM] |
ORLANDO | As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion |
| bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, |
| and, as thou sayest, 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 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 | 10 |
| 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. |
ADAM | Yonder comes my master, your brother. |
ORLANDO | Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will |
| shake me up. | 26 |
[Enter OLIVER] |
OLIVER | Now, sir! what make you here? |
ORLANDO | Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. |
OLIVER | What mar you then, sir? | 29 |
ORLANDO | Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God |
| made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. |
OLIVER | Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. |
ORLANDO | Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? |
| What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should |
| come to such penury? | 36 |
OLIVER | Know you where your are, sir? |
ORLANDO | O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. |
OLIVER | Know you before whom, sir? |
ORLANDO | Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know |
| you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle |
| condition of blood, you should so know me. 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 brothers |
| betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as |
| you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is |
| nearer to his reverence. |
OLIVER | What, boy! |
ORLANDO | Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. | 50 |
OLIVER | Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? |
ORLANDO | I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir |
| Rowland de Boys; 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 had pulled out thy |
| tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself. |
ADAM | Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's |
| remembrance, be at accord. |
OLIVER | Let me go, I say. | 60 |
ORLANDO | 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 gentleman, or |
| give me the poor allottery my father left me by |
| testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. | 69 |
OLIVER | 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. |
ORLANDO | I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. |
OLIVER | Get you with him, you old dog. |
ADAM | Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my |
| teeth in your service. God be with my old master! |
| he would not have spoke such a word. |
[Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM] |
OLIVER | Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will |
| physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand |
| crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! |
[Enter DENNIS] |
DENNIS | Calls your worship? |
OLIVER | Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? | 85 |
DENNIS | So please you, he is here at the door and importunes |
| access to you. |
OLIVER | Call him in. |
[Exit DENNIS] |
| 'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. |
[Enter CHARLES] |
CHARLES | Good morrow to your worship. |
OLIVER | Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the |
| new court? |
CHARLES | 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. |
OLIVER | Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be |
| banished with her father? | 100 |
CHARLES | 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. | 106 |
OLIVER | Where will the old duke live? |
CHARLES | 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. |
OLIVER | What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? | 114 |
CHARLES | 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 disguised 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 honour, 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. | 127 |
OLIVER | Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which |
| thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had |
| myself notice of my brother's purpose herein and |
| have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from |
| it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles: |
| it 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 dost 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. | 146 |
CHARLES | 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! |
OLIVER | Farewell, good Charles. |
[Exit CHARLES] |
| Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see |
| an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, |
| hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never |
| schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of |
| all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much | 155 |
| 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 all: nothing remains but that |
| I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about. |
[Exit] |