Act II, Scene III: Before Oliver's House

by William Shakespeare

　　[Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.]

　　ORLANDOWho's there?

　　ADAMWhat, my young master?—O my gentle master!O my sweet master! O you memoryOf 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 overcomeThe bonny prizer of the humorous duke?Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.Know you not, master, to some kind of menTheir 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 comelyEnvenoms him that bears it!

　　ORLANDOWhy, what's the matter?

　　ADAMO unhappy youth,Come not within these doors; within this roofThe 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 meansTo 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.

　　ORLANDOWhy, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

　　ADAMNo matter whither, so you come not here.

　　ORLANDOWhat, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?Or with a base and boisterous sword enforceA 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 maliceOf a diverted blood and bloody brother.

　　ADAMBut 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 applyHot and rebellious liquors in my blood;Nor did not with unbashful forehead wooThe 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 manIn all your business and necessities.

　　ORLANDOO good old man; how well in thee appearsThe 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 upEven 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 yieldIn lieu of all thy pains and husbandry:But come thy ways, we'll go along together;And ere we have thy youthful wages spentWe'll light upon some settled low content.

　　ADAMMaster, go on; and I will follow theeTo the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.—From seventeen years till now almost fourscoreHere 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 betterThan to die well and not my master's debtor.[Exeunt.]