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? 2 The bony priser of the humorous duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? Adam. Your brother-(no, no brother: yet the son- Hath heard your praises; and this night he means 4 This is no place, this house is but a butchery; 1 i. e. rash, foolish. 2 A prise was a term in wrestling for a grappling or hold taken. 3 1. e. treacherous devices. 4 Place here signifies a seat, a mansion, a residence: it is not yet obsolete in this sense. Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. food? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road? 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 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 three appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! 1 i. e. blood turned out of a course of nature; affections alienated. In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, SCENE IV. The Forest of Arden. [Exeunt. Enter ROSALIND in boy's clothes, CELIA dressed like a Ros. O Jupiter! how weary1 are my spirits! 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 farther. Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you; yet I should bear no cross, 2 if I did bear you; for, I think, you have no money in your purse. Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden. The more fool I 1 The old copy reads merry; perhaps rightly. Rosalind's language, as well as her dress, may be intended to have an assumed character. 2 A cross was a piece of money stamped with a cross; on this Shakspeare often quibbles. When I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.-Look you who comes here; a young man, and an old, in solemn talk. Enter CORIN and SILVIUS. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Or if thou hast not sat, as I do now, Or if thou hast not broke from company, Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, and bid him take that for coming anight to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batlet,1 and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopped hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her; from 2 1 Batlet, the instrument with which washers beat clothes. 2 A peascod. This was the ancient term for peas growing or gathered, the cod being what we now call the pod. VOL. II. 36 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 mortal1 in folly. Ros. Thou speak'st wiser than thou art 'ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be 'ware of mine own wit, till I break my shins against it. Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion. Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me. Cel. I pray you, one of you question 'yond man, If he for gold will give us any food; I faint almost to death. Touch. Holla; you, clown! Ros. Cor. Who calls? Peace, fool! he's not thy kinsman. Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else are they very wretched. Good even to you, friend. Peace, I say. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. Cor. Fair sir, I pity her, graze. 1 In the middle counties, says Johnson, they use mortal as a particle of amplification, as mortal tall, mortal little. So the meaning here may be "abounding in folly." |