« 上一頁繼續 »
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along
Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood :
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta’en a hurt,
Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
But what said Jaques ?
Did he not moralize this spectacle ?
First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; ‘Poor deer,' quoth he thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much :' then, being there alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, ''Tis right :' quoth he 'thus misery doth part The flux of company :' anon a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him And never stays to greet him ; 'Ay,' quoth Jaques, 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ?' Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation ?
Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
Show me the place :
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.
First Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt.
Scene II. A room in the palace.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.
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.
First Lord. 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 untreasured of their mistress.
Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hisperia, 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; If he be absent, bring his brother to me; I'll make him find him : do this suddenly, And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish runaways.
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?
Why are you virtuous ? why do people love you ?
Aud wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant ?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bony priser of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies ?
No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it !
Orl. Why, what's the matter ?
O unhappy youth !
Come not within these doors ; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives :
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.
Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go ? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 30 Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ?
Or with a base and boisterous 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 bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I saved 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 lusty ;
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 lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.
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 prunest 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 thee,
To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
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.
SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden.
Enter ROSALIND for GANYMEDE, Celia for ALIENA, and
Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits !
Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
Ros. 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 !
Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
Touch. 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.
10 Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Touch. 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. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
Enter Corin and Silvius. Look you, who comes here ; a young man and an old in solemn talk.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guess ; for I have loved ere now.