The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 48

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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 l.u.s.ty; 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 l.u.s.ty 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

SCENE IV.

The Forest of Arden

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 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.

Enter CORIN and SILVIUS

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

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 rememb'rest 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 pa.s.sion 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 batler, and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of 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 pa.s.sion 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 Ensman.

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 prithee, 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 any thing.

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.

CORIN. a.s.suredly the thing is to be sold.

Go with me; if you like upon report The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be, And buy it with your gold right suddenly. Exeunt

SCENE V.

Another part of the forest

Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and OTHERS

SONG AMIENS. Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither.

Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

JAQUES. More, more, I prithee, more.

AMIENS. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.

JAQUES. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more.

AMIENS. My voice is ragged; I know I cannot please you.

JAQUES. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing.

Come, more; another stanzo. Call you 'em stanzos?

AMIENS. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.

JAQUES. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?

AMIENS. More at your request than to please myself.

JAQUES. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes; and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks have given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.

AMIENS. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the Duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you.

JAQUES. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is to disputable for my company. I think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.

SONG [All together here]

Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' th' sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither.

Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

JAQUES. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.