As You Like It (eBook)

William Shakespeare, Sheba Blake (Autoren)

eBook Download: EPUB

2022 | 1. Auflage
88 Seiten
Sheba Blake Publishing Corp. (Verlag)
978-1-387-27726-1 (ISBN)

Infos

As You Like It is truly one of Shakespeare's greatest romantic comedies. The heroine, Rosalind has grown up in the court of her usurping uncle Duke Frederick, her father, the rightful duke, having been exiled by his younger brother. Rosalind falls in love with Orlando, but Orlando is forced to flee when he is persecuted by his older brother Oliver. Soon Rosalind is also banished from the court by her uncle. Switching genders she assumes the identity of Ganymede and with her cousin Celia in tow goes in search of her father. Finding him and his friends in the Forest of Arden the young girls join the exiles before finally being reunited with their lovers, a mellowed Oliver and an evil uncle who has found religion.

As part of our mission to publish great works of literary fiction and nonfiction, Sheba Blake Publishing Corp. is extremely dedicated to bringing to the forefront the amazing works of long dead and truly talented authors.

Textauszug

Act II

SCENE I: The Forest of Arden.

[Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other LORDS, in the dress of foresters.]

DUKE SENIOR.Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,Hath not old custom made this life more sweetThan that of painted pomp? Are not these woodsMore free from peril than the envious court?Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,—The seasons’ difference: as the icy fangAnd churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,Which when it bites and blows upon my body,Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,’This is no flattery: these are counsellorsThat feelingly persuade me what I am.’Sweet are the uses of adversity;Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;And this our life, exempt from public haunt,Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,Sermons in stones, and good in everything.I would not change it.

AMIENS.Happy is your grace,That can translate the stubbornness of fortuneInto so quiet and so sweet a style.

DUKE SENIOR.Come, shall we go and kill us venison?And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,Being native burghers of this desert city,Should, in their own confines, with forked headsHave their round haunches gor’d.

FIRST LORD.Indeed, my lord,The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;And, in that kind, swears you do more usurpThan doth your brother that hath banish’d you.To-day my lord of Amiens and myselfDid steal behind him as he lay alongUnder an oak, whose antique root peeps outUpon the brook that brawls along this wood:To the which place a poor sequester’d stag,That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt,Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,The wretched animal heav’d forth such groans,That their discharge did stretch his leathern coatAlmost to bursting; and the big round tearsCours’d one another down his innocent noseIn piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,Augmenting it with tears.

DUKE SENIOR.But what said Jaques?Did he not moralize this spectacle?

FIRST LORD.O, yes, into a thousand similes.First, for his weeping into the needless stream;’Poor deer,’ quoth he ‘thou mak’st a testamentAs worldlings do, giving thy sum of moreTo that which had too much:’ then, being there alone,Left and abandoned of his velvet friends;’’Tis right’; quoth he; ‘thus misery doth partThe flux of company:’ anon, a careless herd,Full of the pasture, jumps along by himAnd never stays to greet him; ‘Ay,’ quoth Jaques,’Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;’Tis just the fashion; wherefore do you lookUpon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’Thus most invectively he pierceth throughThe body of the country, city, court,Yea, and of this our life: swearing that weAre mere usurpers, tyrants, and what’s worse,To fright the animals, and to kill them upIn their assign’d and native dwelling-place.

DUKE SENIOR.And did you leave him in this contemplation?

SECOND LORD.We did, my lord, weeping and commentingUpon the sobbing deer.

DUKE SENIOR.Show me the place:I love to cope him in these sullen fits,For then he’s full of matter.

FIRST LORD.I’ll bring you to him straight.

[Exeunt.]

* * *

SCENE II: A Room in the Palace.

[Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and Attendants.]

DUKE FREDERICK.Can it be possible that no man saw them?It cannot be: some villains of my courtAre of consent and sufferance in this.

FIRST 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 earlyThey found the bed untreasur’d of their mistress.

SECOND LORD.My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oftYour grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.Hesperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,Confesses that she secretly o’erheardYour daughter and her cousin much commendThe parts and graces of the wrestlerThat did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;And she believes, wherever they are gone,That youth is surely in their company.

DUKE FREDERICK.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 quailTo bring again these foolish runaways.

[Exeunt.]

* * *

SCENE III: Before OLIVER’S House.

[Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.]

ORLANDO.Who’s there?

ADAM.What, 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!

ORLANDO.Why, what’s the matter?

ADAM.O 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.

ORLANDO.Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

ADAM.No matter whither, so you come not here.

ORLANDO.What, 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.

ADAM.But 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.

ORLANDO.O 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.

ADAM.Master, 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.]

* * *

SCENE IV: The Forest of Arden.

[Enter ROSALIND in boy’s clothes, CELIA dressed like ashepherdess, and TOUCHSTONE.]

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 can 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 Arden.

TOUCHSTONE.Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was athome I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.

ROSALIND.Ay, be so, good Touchstone.—Look you, who comes here?, ayoung man and an old in solemn talk.

[Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.]

CORIN.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 lov’d ere now.

SILVIUS.No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess;Though in thy youth thou wast as true a loverAs ever sigh’d 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 ridiculousHast 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 remember’st not the slightest follyThat ever love did make thee run into,Thou hast not lov’d:Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,Thou hast not lov’d:Or if thou hast not broke from companyAbruptly, as my...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 21.2.2022
• Verlagsort: Vachendorf
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Klassiker / Moderne Klassiker
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Lyrik / Dramatik ► Dramatik / Theater
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
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• ISBN-10: 1-387-27726-X / 138727726X
• ISBN-13: 978-1-387-27726-1 / 9781387277261