AS YOU LIKE IT

Act 1 Scene 1

(Enter Orlando and Adam)
l1l	Orlando	 As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion
l2l		bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns,
l3l		and, as thou sayst, charged my brother on his blessing
l4l		to breed me well—and there begins my sadness. My
l5l		brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks
l6l		goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me rustically
l7l		at home—or, to speak more properly, stays me here at
l8l		home unkept# for call you that keeping for a gentleman
l9l		of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox?
l10l		His horses are bred better, for besides that they are fair
l11l		with their feeding, they are taught their manège, and
l12l		to that end riders dearly hired. But I, his brother, gain
l13l		nothing under him but growth, for the which his
l14l		animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as
l15l		I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me,
l16l		the something that nature gave me his countenance
l17l		seems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds,
l18l		bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in him
l19l		lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it,
l20l		Adam, that grieves me# and the spirit of my father,
l21l		which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against
l22l		this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I
l23l		know no wise remedy how to avoid it.
		(Enter Oliver)
l24l	Adam	 Yonder comes my master, your brother.
l25l	Orlando	Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he
l26l		will shake me up.
		(Adam stands aside)
l27l	Oliver	 Now, sir, what make you here?
l28l	Orlando	Nothing. I am not taught to make anything.
l29l	Oliver	What mar you then, sir?
l30l	Orlando	Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which
l31l		God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with
l32l		idleness.
l33l	Oliver	Marry, sir, be better employed, and be nought
l34l		awhile.
l35l	Orlando	Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with
l36l		them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should
l37l		come to such penury?
l38l	Oliver	Know you where you are, sir?
l39l	Orlando	O sir, very well# here in your orchard.
l40l	Oliver	Know you before whom, sir?
l41l	Orlando	Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I
l42l		know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle
l43l		condition of blood you should so know me. The courtesy
l44l		of nations allows you my better, in that you are the
l45l		first-born# but the same tradition takes not away my
l46l		blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have
l47l		as much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess
l48l		your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.
l49l	Oliver	(assailing him)
		 What, boy!
l50l	Orlando	(seizing him by the throat)
		 Come, come, elder
l51l		brother, you are too young in this.
l52l	Oliver	Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
l53l	Orlando	I am no villein. I am the youngest son of Sir
l54l		Rowland de Bois. He was my father, and he is thrice
l55l		a villain that says such a father begot villeins. Wert
l56l		thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from
l57l		thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for
l58l		saying so. Thou hast railed on thyself.
l59l	Adam	(coming forward)
		 Sweet masters, be patient. For
l60l		your father’s remembrance, be at accord.
l61l	Oliver	(to Orlando)
		 Let me go, I say.
l62l	Orlando	I will not till I please. You shall hear me. My
l63l		father charged you in his will to give me good
l64l		education. You have trained me like a peasant,
l65l		obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like
l66l		qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me,
l67l		and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow me such
l68l		exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the
l69l		poor allottery my father left me by testament. With
l70l		that I will go buy my fortunes.
l71l	Oliver	And what wilt thou do—beg when that is spent?
l72l		Well, sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with
l73l		you. You shall have some part of your will. I pray you,
l74l		leave me.
l75l	Orlando	I will no further offend you than becomes me
l76l		for my good.
l77l	Oliver	(to Adam)
		 Get you with him, you old dog.
l78l	Adam	Is “old dog” my reward? Most true, I have lost my
l79l		teeth in your service. God be with my old master, he
l80l		would not have spoke such a word.
		(Exeunt Orlando and Adam)
l81l	Oliver	 Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will
l82l		physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns
l83l		neither. Holla, Denis!
		(Enter Denis)
l84l	Denis	 Calls your worship?
l85l	Oliver	Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to
l86l		speak with me?
l87l	Denis	So please you, he is here at the door, and importunes
l88l		access to you.
l89l	Oliver	Call him in.
		(Exit Denis)
l90l		’Twill be a good way. And tomorrow the wrestling is.
		( 90 Enter Charles)
l91l	Charles	 Good morrow to your worship.
l92l	Oliver	Good Monsieur Charles—what’s the new news at
l93l		the new court?
l94l	Charles	There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old
l95l		news: that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger
l96l		brother, the new Duke, and three or four loving lords
l97l		have put themselves into voluntary exile with him,
l98l		whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke#
l99l		therefore he gives them good leave to wander.
l100l	Oliver	Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be
l101l		banished with her father?
l102l	Charles	O no# for the Duke’s daughter her cousin so
l103l		loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together,
l104l		that she would have followed her exile, or have died
l105l		to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less
l106l		beloved of her uncle than his own daughter# and never
l107l		two ladies loved as they do.
l108l	Oliver	Where will the old Duke live?
l109l	Charles	They say he is already in the forest of Ardenne,
l110l		and a many merry men with him# and there they live
l111l		like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many
l112l		young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the
l113l		time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
l114l	Oliver	What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new
l115l		Duke?
l116l	Charles	Marry do I, sir, and I came to acquaint you with
l117l		a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that
l118l		your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to
l119l		come in disguised against me to try a fall. Tomorrow,
l120l		sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he that escapes me
l121l		without some broken limb, shall acquit him well. Your
l122l		brother is but young and tender, and for your love I
l123l		would be loath to foil him, as I must for my own
l124l		honour if he come in. Therefore out of my love to you
l125l		I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you
l126l		might stay him from his intendment, or brook such
l127l		disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing
l128l		of his own search, and altogether against my will.
l129l	Oliver	Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which
l130l		thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself
l131l		notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and have by
l132l		underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it#
l133l		but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles, it is the
l134l		stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambition,
l135l		an envious emulator of every man’s good parts, a secret
l136l		and villainous contriver against me his natural brother.
l137l		Therefore use thy discretion. I had as lief thou didst
l138l		break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look
l139l		to ’t# for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he
l140l		do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise
l141l		against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous
l142l		device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life
l143l		by some indirect means or other. For I assure thee—
l144l		and almost with tears I speak it—there is not one so
l145l		young and so villainous this day living. I speak but
l146l		brotherly of him, but should I anatomize him to thee
l147l		as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look
l148l		pale and wonder.
l149l	Charles	I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he
l150l		come tomorrow I’ll give him his payment. If ever he
l151l		go alone again, I’ll never wrestle for prize more. And
l152l		so God keep your worship.
l153l	Oliver	Farewell, good Charles.
		(Exit Charles)
l154l		Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an end
l155l		of him, for my soul—yet I know not why—hates
l156l		nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle# never schooled,
l157l		and yet learned# full of noble device# of all sorts
l158l		enchantingly beloved# and, indeed, so much in the
l159l		heart of the world, and especially of my own people,
l160l		who best know him, that I am altogether misprized.
l161l		But it shall not be so long. This wrestler shall clear all.
l162l		Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither,
l163l		which now I’ll go about.
		(Exit)