Deep in the Forest of Arden lived a merry company. The Duke of that country, banished by his usurping brother Frederick, had taken refuge among the green woods, and there, far from the pomp and envious clamour of Court, he lived happily with a few faithful followers. Custom had made this new life sweeter than the old one of showy state. Here were no fawning courtiers, no slander and intrigue; the only hardships were those of the changing seasons. Even when the keen winds of winter made the Duke shrink with cold, he would smile and say: “This is no flattery; these are counsellors that make me feel really what I am;” and the biting blast seemed to him less cruel than the falsehood and ingratitude of men.
Not far from the forest was the house that had formerly belonged to a good gentleman—Sir Rowland de Boys. Dying, Sir Rowland had left all his possessions to his eldest son, Oliver, excepting one thousand crowns, which was to go to the youngest son, Orlando. Sir Rowland, however, had charged Oliver to bring up his two brothers carefully. Oliver had sent the second son, Jaques, to school, where the boy did well; but his youngest brother, Orlando, he kept at home, leaving him utterly neglected and without any sort of training. Not only did Oliver do nothing at all for his brother, but he even tried to take away what advantages Orlando possessed by nature. He made him feed with the servants, debarred him his place as brother, and in every way possible seemed to aim at unfitting him for his position as a gentleman.
Orlando was indignant at such treatment, and at last he rebelled openly, declaring he would endure such servitude no longer. There was an angry dispute between the young men, in which Oliver, as usual, tried to bully his brother into submission. But Orlando’s spirit was up. Stung to fury by Oliver’s insults, he seized hold of him, and compelled him to listen to what he had to say. A faithful old servitor of their father’s interposed, and tried to make peace, but Orlando was determined not to yield.
“You shall hear me,” he said, as Oliver struggled to free himself. “My father charged you in his will to give me a good education. You have trained me like a peasant, hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it. Therefore allow me such exercises as becomes a gentleman, or give me the poor portion my father left me in his will, and with that I will go seek my fortune.”
“And what will you do with it? Beg, when that is spent?” sneered Oliver. “Well, sir, get you in; I will not be troubled with you much longer. You shall have part of what you wish. I pray you, leave me.” And then, turning to the old servant Adam, he added savagely, “Get you with him, you old dog!”
“Is ‘old dog’ my reward?” said Adam sadly. “Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! He would not have spoken such a word.”
But Oliver had a plan for getting rid of this younger brother, and that without expending a thousand crowns. Charles, the wrestler of the usurping Duke, was to show his skill the following day at Court, and Oliver knew it was Orlando’s intention to try a match with this famous athlete. This report had also privately reached the ears of the wrestler. Charles was a most powerful opponent, deadly in skill and strength. Being a friend of Oliver’s, and not wishing to harm the young Orlando, he came to Oliver’s house to warn him to dissuade his brother from making the attempt, or at least to let him know, in the event of any injury happening to Orlando, that it would be entirely of the boy’s own seeking, and altogether against Charles’s will.
Oliver thanked Charles for his kind thought, and said he had himself tried by every means to dissuade Orlando, but that he was resolute.
“I tell you, Charles, he is the stubbornest young fellow in France,” Oliver said maliciously, “full of ambition, envious of every man’s good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me, his own brother. Therefore use your discretion. I had as lief you broke his neck as his finger. And you had better be on your guard, for if you do him any slight disgrace, or if he fails to win glory for himself, he will practise against you by poison, entrap you by some treacherous device, and never leave you till he has taken your life by some indirect means or other. For I assure you—and I speak it almost with tears—there is no one living at this day so young and so villainous.”