Oh, what a world is this, when, what is comely,
Envenoms him that bears it!
Orl. Why, what's the matter?
Adam. Oh, unhappy youth !
Come not within these doors; within this roof,
The enemy of all your graces lives:
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. Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my
Or, with a base anh 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 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 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. Oh, 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 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. [Excunt.
Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, and Two or Three LORDS, like Foresters.
Duke. 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.
I would not change it.
Amiens. Happy is your grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into so quiet, and so sweet a style.
Duke. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me; the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads,
Have their round haunches gor'd.
Jaques. Indeed, my lord,
I have often griev'd at that;
And, in that kind think you do more usurp,
Than doth your brother, that hath banish'd you.
To-day, my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal
Behind 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 heav'd forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose,
In piteous chase; and thus, the hairy fool
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
Duke. But what said you ?
Did you not moralize this spectacle ?
Jaques. O, yes, into a thousand similies.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream ;
Poor deer, quoth I, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that, which had too much :---Then, being alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; -,
'Tis right, quoth 1; 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 I,
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ?
Thus pierced I through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life: for we, my lord,
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. Show me the place;
I love to cope you in these sullen fits,
For then you're full of matter.
Jaques. I'll bring you to it, straight.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with LORDS.
Fred. Can it be possible, that no man saw them?.
It cannot be; some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.
1 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 untreasur'd of their mistress.
2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hesperia, 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.
Fred. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hi
I'll make him find him-do this suddenly;
And let not search and inquisition quail,
To bring again these foolish runaways.
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