AS YOU LIKE IT. Sidney Lee

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 untreasur’d of their mistress.

       SECOND LORD

       My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft

       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.

       DUKE FREDERICK

       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.

       [Exeunt.]

      SCENE III. Before OLIVER’S House

       [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.]

       ORLANDO

       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?

       And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?

       Why would you be so fond to overcome

       The bonny prizer 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!

       ORLANDO

       Why, what’s the matter?

       ADAM

       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.

       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 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.

       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 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.

       [Exeunt.]

      SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden

       [Enter ROSALIND in boy’s clothes, CELIA dressed like a shepherdess, and 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