Act II, Scene I: The Forest of Arden

by William Shakespeare

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

　　DUKE SENIORNow, 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.

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

　　DUKE SENIORCome, 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 LORDIndeed, 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 markèd of the melancholy Jaques,Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,Augmenting it with tears.

　　DUKE SENIORBut what said Jaques?Did he not moralize this spectacle?

　　FIRST LORDO, 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 SENIORAnd did you leave him in this contemplation?

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

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

　　FIRST LORDI'll bring you to him straight.

　　[Exeunt.]