As You Like It

will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him and his practises.
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 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;
And 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 prunest a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry
But come thy ways; well 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 for Ganymede, Celia for Aliena, 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 hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, good Aliena!
Celia	I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
Touchstone	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.
Rosalind	Well, this is the forest of Arden.
Touchstone	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.
Rosalind	Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
	Enter Corin and Silvius.
	Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.
Corin	That is the way to make her scorn you still.
Silvius	O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!
Corin	I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.
Silvius	No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover As ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow: But if thy love were ever like to mine⁠— As sure I think did never man love so⁠— How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
Corin	Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
Silvius	O, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily! If thou remember’st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not loved: Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise, Thou hast not loved: Or if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not loved. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! Exit.
Rosalind	Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touchstone	And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batlet and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from 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 mortal in folly.
Rosalind	Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
Touchstone	Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it.
Rosalind	Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion Is much upon my fashion.
Touchstone	And mine; but it grows something stale with me.
Celia	I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food: I faint almost to death.
Touchstone	Holla, you clown!
Rosalind	Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman.
Corin	Who calls?
Touchstone	Your betters, sir.
Corin	Else are they very wretched.
Rosalind	Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
Corin	And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Rosalind	I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d And faints for succor.
Corin	Fair sir, I pity her And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, My fortunes were more able to relieve her; But I am shepherd to another man And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: My master is of