Adam

Oliver
Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
Orlando
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.
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What, my young master? O my gentle master,
O my sweet master, O you memory
Of 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 overcome
The bonny priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
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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 boist’rous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do;
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Enter Orlando, carrying Adam.

Duke Senior
Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
And let him feed.
Orlando
I thank you most for him.
Adam
So had you need.—
I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke Senior
Welcome. Fall to. I will not trouble you
As yet to question you about your fortunes.—
Give us some music,
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