| 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 | 5 |
| | 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 | 10 |
| | 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 | 15 |
| | 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 | 20 |
| | 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 | 25 |
| | 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. | |
| | Enter OLIVER | |
| OLIVER | Now, sir! what make you here? | 30 |
| ORLANDO | Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. | |
| OLIVER | What mar you then, sir? | |
| 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. | 35 |
| ORLANDO | Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? | |
| | What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should | |
| | come to such penury? | |
| OLIVER | Know you where your are, sir? | |
| ORLANDO | O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. | 40 |
| 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 | 45 |
| | 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. | 50 |
| OLIVER | What, boy! | |
| ORLANDO | Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. | |
| 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 | 55 |
| | 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 | 60 |
| | remembrance, be at accord. | |
| OLIVER | Let me go, I say. | |
| 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, | 65 |
| | 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 | 70 |
| | testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. | |
| 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. | 75 |
| 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. | 80 |
| | 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. | 90 |
| 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 | 95 |
| | 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 | 105 |
| | never two ladies loved as they do. | |
| 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 | 110 |
| | 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? | |
| CHARLES | Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a | |
| | matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand | 115 |
| | 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, | 120 |
| | 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 | 125 |
| | run into, in that it is a thing of his own search | |
| | and altogether against my will. | |
| 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 | 130 |
| | 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 | 135 |
| | 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 | 140 |
| | 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 | 145 |
| | 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. | |
| 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 | 150 |
| | 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, | 155 |
| | 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 | |
| | in the heart of the world, and especially of my own | |
| | people, who best know him, that I am altogether | 160 |
| | 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 | |