|
| | 
Enter DUKE SENIOR,
AMIENS, and two or three Lords,
like foresters.
| DUKE
SENIOR |
Now, my co-mates and
brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference, as the icy fang
And 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 counsellors
That 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 every thing.
I would not change it. |
| AMIENS
|
Happy is your grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
Into 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 heads
Have their round haunches gored. |
| First Lord
|
Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him as he lay along
Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
Upon 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 heaved forth such groans
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
In 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 makest a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much:' then, being there alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends,
''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part
The flux of company:' anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques,
'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?'
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse,
To fright the animals and to kill them up
In 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 commenting
Upon 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] |
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords
| DUKE
FREDERICK |
Can it be possible that no
man saw them?
It cannot be: some villains of my court
Are 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 abed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. |
| Second
Lord |
My lord, the roynish
clown, at whom so oft
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o'erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That 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 quail
To bring again these foolish runaways. |
| |
[Exeunt] |
To view other scenes in
the show click below:
|
Full Text |
Act III, Scene 3 The Forest |
|
Act I, Scene 1 Orchard of Oliver's house |
Act III, Scene 4 The Forest |
|
Act I, Scene 2 Lawn Before the Duke's Palace |
Act III, Scene 5 Another Part of the Forest |
|
Act I, Scene 3 A room in the Palace |
Act IV, Scene 1 The Forest |
|
Act II, Scene 1 The Forest of Arden/Act II, Scene 2 A room in the Palace |
Act IV, Scene 2 The Forest/Act IV, Scene 3 The Forest |
|
Act II, Scene 3 Before Oliver's House |
Act V, Scene 1 The Forest |
|
Act II, Scene 4 The Forest of Arden |
Act V, Scene 2 The Forest |
|
Act II, Scene 5 The Forest |
Act V, Scene 3 The Forest |
|
Act II, Scene 6 The Forest/Act II, Scene 7 The Forest |
Act V, Scene 4 The Forest |
|
Act III, Scene 1 A room in the Palace/Act III, Scene 2 The Forest |
|
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