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 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 prun’st a rotten tree,

That cannot so much as a blossom yield

In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.

But come thy ways. We’ll 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 livèd 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

2.4 Enter Rosalind in man’s clothes as Ganymede; Celia as Aliena, a shepherdess; and Touchstone the clown

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 Ardenne.

TOUCHSTONE Ay, now am I in Ardenne; the more fool I. When I was at home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

Enter Corin and Silvius

ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who

comes here—a young man and an old in solemn talk.

CORIN (to Silvius)

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 sighed 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 never love so heartily.

If thou rememberest 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,

Wearing 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, Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe! 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 chapped 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 speak’st 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 yon man

If he for gold will give us any food.

I faint almost to death.

TOUCHSTONE (to Corin) 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 (to Touchstone)

Peace, I say. (To Corin) 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 oppressed,

And faints for succour.

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 churlish disposition,

And little recks to find the way to heaven

By doing deeds of hospitality.

Besides, his cot, his flocks, and bounds of feed

Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now

By reason of his absence there is nothing