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The clownish fool out of your father's court?
Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me;
Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and other Lords, in the
dress of Foresters. Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in
exíle, 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 publick haunt, Finds tongues
in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
Duke S. 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 gor'd. 1 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 hunters' 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 coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd 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 S.
But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle?
i Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much: Then, being 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,
Show me the place;
2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [E reunt.
A ROOM IN THE PALACE.
Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, and Attendunts.
1 Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her a-bed; and, in the morning early,
2 Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
BEFORE OLIVER'S HOUSE.
Enter Orlando and Adum, meeting. Orl. Who's there? Adam. What! my young master?-0, my gentle
master, O, my sweet master, O you memory Of old sir Rowland! why, what make
? Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?