As You Like It, Act 1, Scene 1

As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayst, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit. For my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping, for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better, for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage and to that end riders dearly hired; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth, for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me. He lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me, and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

As I remember, Adam, it was like this: he left me by his will only a measly thousand crowns, and, as you say, he ordered my brother, on his blessing, to bring me up well; and that's where my unhappiness starts. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and reports speak in glowing terms of how well he is doing. As for me, he keeps me at home like a farm boy, or, to put it more accurately, he keeps me here at home without keeping me at all; for do you call that keeping, for a gentleman of my birth, when it is no different from penning up an ox? His horses are raised better, because, besides being sleek from their feed, they are trained in their paces, and riders are hired at great expense for that purpose. But I, his brother, get nothing from him except growing bigger, and for that his animals on his dung heaps owe him as much as I do. Besides this nothing that he gives me so generously, the something that nature gave me his treatment seems to take away from me. He makes me eat with his farmhands, shuts me out of a brother's place, and, as far as he can, he undermines my gentle birth by the way he brings me up. That is what grieves me, Adam, and the spirit of my father, which I think is in me, is beginning to rebel against this slavery. I will not put up with it any longer, though I still know no sensible way to escape it.

Yonder comes my master, your brother.

Here comes my master, your brother.

Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up.

Stand aside, Adam, and you will hear how he tells me off.

Now, sir, what make you here?

Now, sir, what are you doing here?

Nothing. I am not taught to make anything.

Nothing. I have not been taught to do anything.

What mar you then, sir?

What are you ruining, then, sir?

Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.

Why, sir, I am helping you ruin what God made — a poor unworthy brother of yours — with idleness.

Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.

Well then, sir, find something better to do, and make yourself scarce for a while.

Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent that I should come to such penury?

Shall I look after your pigs and eat husks with them? What extravagant inheritance have I squandered, that I should come to such poverty?

Know you where you are, sir?

Do you know where you are, sir?

O, sir, very well: here in your orchard.

Oh, yes, sir, perfectly well: here in your orchard.

Know you before whom, sir?

Do you know who you are standing in front of, sir?

Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of blood you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better in that you are the first-born, but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us. I have as much of my father in me as you, albeit I confess your coming before me is nearer to his reverence.

Yes, better than the man I am standing in front of knows me. I know you are my eldest brother, and by the gentle bond of blood you ought to acknowledge me as your brother. The custom of nations grants that you are my superior because you were born first, but that same tradition does not take away my blood, even if there were twenty brothers between us. I have as much of my father in me as you do, although I admit that your being born before me brings you closer to the respect owed to him.

What, boy!

What, boy!

Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Come on, come on, elder brother, you are too inexperienced at this.

Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Are you going to lay hands on me, you scoundrel?

I am no villain. I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so. Thou has railed on thyself.

I am no scoundrel. I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and anyone who says such a father fathered scoundrels is three times a scoundrel himself. If you were not my brother, I would not take this hand from your throat until the other one had pulled out your tongue for saying it. You have insulted yourself.

[Coming forward.] Sweet masters, be patient. For your father’s remembrance, be at accord.

[Coming forward.] Dear masters, be patient. For the memory of your father, be at peace with each other.

Let me go, I say.

Let go of me, I say.

I will not till I please. You shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education. You have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.

I will not until I choose to. You are going to listen to me. My father ordered you in his will to give me a good education. You have brought me up like a peasant, keeping all gentlemanly accomplishments dark and hidden from me. My father's spirit is growing strong in me, and I will not put up with it any longer. So either let me have the sort of training that suits a gentleman, or hand over the small share my father left me in his will; with that I will go and buy myself a future.

And what wilt thou do? Beg when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you. You shall have some part of your will. I pray you leave me.

And what will you do then? Beg once that is spent? Well, sir, go inside. I will not be bothered with you for long. You shall have part of what you want. Please leave me.

I no further offend you than becomes me for my good.

I will trouble you no further than I must for my own good.

Get you with him, you old dog.

Go with him, you old dog.

Is “old dog” my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master. He would not have spoke such a word.

Is "old dog" my reward? Quite true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master. He would never have said such a thing.

Is it even so? Begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!

So that's how it is? Are you starting to get above yourself with me? I will cure your rank overgrowth, and still not hand over any thousand crowns either. Hello there, Dennis!

DENNIS Calls your worship?

DENNIS Did your worship call?

Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to speak with me?

Wasn't Charles, the Duke's wrestler, here to speak with me?

DENNIS So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you.

DENNIS If you please, he is here at the door and is urgently asking to see you.

Call him in.

Call him in.

’Twill be a good way, and tomorrow the wrestling is.

This will be a good way to do it, and the wrestling is tomorrow.

Good morrow to your worship.

Good morning to your worship.

Good Monsieur Charles. What’s the new news at the new court?

Good Monsieur Charles. What is the new news at the new court?

There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news. That is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.

There is no news at the court, sir, but the old news. That is, the old Duke has been banished by his younger brother the new Duke, and three or four loyal lords have gone into voluntary exile with him; their lands and incomes are making the new Duke richer, so he is quite happy to let them wander off.

Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her father?

Can you tell me whether Rosalind, the Duke's daughter, has been banished along with her father?

O, no; for the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter, and never two ladies loved as they do.

Oh, no; because the Duke's daughter, her cousin, loves her so much — they have been raised together ever since they were in their cradles — that she would have followed her into exile or died if she had been left behind. She is at the court, and loved by her uncle no less than his own daughter, and no two ladies have ever loved each other as these two do.

Where will the old Duke live?

Where is the old Duke going to live?

They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gentlemen flock to him every day and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.

They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, with a good number of cheerful men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England. They say many young gentlemen come flocking to him every day and pass the time without a care, as people did in the golden age.

What, you wrestle tomorrow before the new Duke?

So, you are wrestling tomorrow in front of the new Duke?

Marry, do I, sir, and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit, and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender, and for your love I would be loath to foil him, as I must for my own honour if he come in. Therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will.

Indeed I am, sir, and I came to tell you about something. I have been given to understand, sir, in confidence, that your younger brother Orlando intends to come in disguise and take me on for a bout. Tomorrow, sir, I wrestle for my reputation, and anyone who gets away from me without a broken limb will have done well for himself. Your brother is young and delicate, and for your sake I would hate to defeat him, as I would have to for my own honour if he comes in. So, out of my affection for you, I came here to let you know about it, so that you could either stop him from his plan, or else be ready to accept the disgrace he will bring on himself, since it is something he has gone looking for entirely against my wishes.

Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it; but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man’s good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his natural brother. Therefore use thy discretion. I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to’t; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by some indirect means or other. For I assure thee (and almost with tears I speak it) there is not one so young and so villainous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him, but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.

Charles, I thank you for your affection towards me, and you will find that I repay it very generously. I had word myself of my brother's intention in this, and I have worked by roundabout means to talk him out of it; but he is determined. I'll tell you, Charles, he is the most stubborn young fellow in France, full of ambition, spitefully jealous of every other man's good qualities, a secret and wicked plotter against me, his own brother. So use your own judgement. I would just as gladly have you break his neck as his finger. And you had better watch out; because if you inflict even a slight humiliation on him, or if he does not win great glory at your expense, he will work against you with poison, trap you by some treacherous scheme, and never leave you alone until he has taken your life by one underhand means or another. For I assure you — and I say it almost in tears — there is not one person alive today so young and so wicked. I am speaking of him as a brother should, but if I were to lay him open to you exactly as he is, I would have to blush and weep, and you would have to go pale and be astonished.

I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come tomorrow I’ll give him his payment. If ever he go alone again I’ll never wrestle for prize more. And so, God keep your worship.

I am truly glad I came here to you. If he turns up tomorrow, I will give him what he deserves. If he ever walks again without help, I will never wrestle for a prize again. And so, God keep your worship.

Farewell, good Charles. Now will I stir this gamester. I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul—yet I know not why—hates nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprized. But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all. Nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither, which now I’ll go about.

Goodbye, good Charles. Now I will stir up this sportsman. I hope I shall see the end of him; for my soul — I don't know why — hates nothing more than him. Yet he is well-bred, never taught and yet learned, full of noble ideas, enchantingly loved by people of every kind, and indeed so firmly in the heart of the world, and especially of my own household, who know him best, that I am completely undervalued. But it will not be so for long; this wrestler will settle everything. All that remains is for me to fire the boy up to go there, which I will go and do now.