« ElőzőTovább »
South. And I, while I have life, will hoard thy mem'ry: When I am dead, we then shall meet again.
Essex. Till then, Farewell.
EARL OF ESSEX
JAFFIER AND PIERRE.
Jaff. By Heav'n, you stir not!
Pier. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,
Jaff. Not know me, Pierre ! Pier. No, know thee not; what art thou? Jaff. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd, valu'd friend ! Though now deserv'dly scorn'd, and us’d most hardly.
Pier. Thou Jaffier! thou my once lov'd, valu'd friend! By Heav'ns thou liest ; the man so call'd, my friend, Was gen'rous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant, Noble in mind, and in his person lovely, Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart: But thou a wretched, base, false, worthless coward, Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect : All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee. Prithee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me, Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.
Jaff. I have not wrong’d thee : by these tears I have not But still am honest, true, and hope too, valiant ;
My mind still full of thee, therefore still noble.
thyself That once beloved, valu'd friend of mine, And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence these
chains ? Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment? Whence this dishonour but from thee, thou false one? Jaff. All's true; yet grant one thing, and I've done
Jaff. To take thy life on such conditions
Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself
and down this cursed city
Jaff. By all that's just
Pier. Swear by some other pow'rs,
Jaff. Then by that Hell I merit, I'll not leave thee,
Pier. Not leave me !
Jaff. No; thou shalt not force me from thee;
And carry up
I'll weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty;
Pier. Art thou not—
Pier. A traitor :
Pier. A villain
Pier. A coward, a most scand'lous coward, Spiritless, void of honour, one who has sold Thy everlasting fame for shameless life?
Jaff. All, all, and more, much more: my faults are
numberless. Pier. And wouldst thou have me live on terms like thine
Base as thou'rt false- **
Jaff. No: 'tis to me that's granted:
Pier. I scorn it more, because preserv'd by thee:
Jaff. Say thou wilt live then.
Pier. For my life, dispose oft Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tir'd with. ... "
Jaff. O Pierre :
Pier. No more.
Jaff. My eyes won't lose the sight of thee, But languish after thine, and ache with gazing. Pier. Leave me--Nay, then thus, thus, I throw thee
from me: And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee.
ORLANDO AND ADAM.
Orlan. Who's there?
Adam. What, my young master! Oh, my gentle master! Oh, my sweet master! oh you memory Of old sir Rowland! Why, what makes 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 overcome The bony prizer of the hum'rous Duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not, master, to some kind of men Their graces serve them but as enemies ? No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. :ři Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it!
Orlan. Why, what's the matter ?
Adam. Oh, unhappy youth,
enemy of all your graces lives :
within it: if he fail of that,
Orlan. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orlan. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road This must I do, or know not what to do : Yet this I will not do, do how I can; I rather will subject me to the malice Of 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 apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did I 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. Orlan. O ! good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed I Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion; And, having that, do choke their service up Ev’n with the having; 'tis 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;