William Shakespeare : Complete Collection (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry...)
1. Lord.
O yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream:
“Poor deer,” quoth he, “thou mak’st a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too [much].” Then being there alone,
Left and abandoned of his velvet [friends]
“’Tis right,” quoth he, “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 Jaques,
“Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens,
’Tis just the fashion. Wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?”
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of [the] country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
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 S.
And did you leave him in this contemplation?
2. Lord.
We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
Duke S.
Show me the place.
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he’s full of matter.
1. Lord.
I’ll bring you to him straight.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene II
Enter Duke [Frederick] with Lords.
Duke F.
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 oft
Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o’erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrastler
That did but lately foil the sinowy Charles,
And she believes, where ever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
Duke F.
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
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?
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 priser 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!
[Orl.]
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.
[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 food?
Or with a base and boist’rous 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.