William Shakespeare : Complete Collection. William Shakespeare. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William Shakespeare
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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isbn: 9782378077310
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Dance. [Exeunt.]

       ¶

      Act V. Scene IV/Francis Wheatley/James Fittler Francis Wheatley, p. — James Fittler, e.

      William Shakespeare

      AS YOU

       LIKE IT

      ( 1599 )

      First Folio, 1623

      like

       ¶

      Act I

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III

      Act II

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Sc. V Sc. VI Sc. VII

      Act III

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Sc. V

      Act IV

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III

      Act V

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV

       Epilogue

      [Dramatis Personae

      Duke Senior, living in banishment

      Duke Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominions

      Amiens,

      Jaques, lords attending on the banished Duke

      Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Duke Frederick

      Charles, wrestler to Duke Frederick

      Oliver,

      Jaques,

      Orlando, sons of Sir Rowland de Boys

      Adam,

      Dennis, servants to Oliver

      Touchstone, a clown

      Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar

      Corin,

      Silvius, shepherds

      William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey

      A person representing Hymen

      –––––

      Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke

      Celia, daughter to Duke Frederick

      Phebe, a shepherdess

      Audrey, a country wench

      –––––

      Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants

      Scene: Oliver’s house; Duke Frederick’s court; and the forest of Arden]

      ACT I

      First Folio

       ¶

       Enter Orlando and Adam.

      Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeath’d me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say’st, charg’d 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 hir’d; 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.

       Enter Oliver.

      Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.

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

      Oli. Now, sir, what make you here?

      Orl. Nothing. I am not taught to make any thing.

      Oli. What mar you then, sir?

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

      Oli. Marry, sir, be better employ’d, and be naught a while.

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

      Oli. Know you where you are, sir?

      Orl. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.

      Oli. Know you before whom, sir?

      Orl. 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.

      Oli. What, boy!

       [Strikes him.]

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

       [Collaring him.]

      Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

      Orl. 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 pull’d out thy tongue for saying so. Thou hast rail’d on thyself.

      Adam. Sweet