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Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three LORDS, like foresters |
DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three LORDS enter, dressed like foresters. |
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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 not 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 counselors 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 everything. |
DUKE SENIOR
Now, my companions and brothers in exile, hasn’t experience made this simple life sweeter than a life of glittery pomp and circumstance? Aren’t these woods less perilous than the court, with all its jealousies and intrigues? Out here we feel the changing of the seasons, but we’re not bothered by it. When the icy fangs of the brutal, scolding wind bite and blow on my body, even though I’m shivering with cold, I can appreciate the weather’s honesty. I smile and think, “Thank goodness the wind doesn’t flatter me: it’s like a councilor who makes me feel what I’m really made of.” Adversity can have its benefits—like the ugly, poisonous toad that wears a precious jewel in its forehead. In this life, far away from the civilized world, we can hear the language of the trees, read the books of the running streams, hear sermons in the stones, and discover the good in every single thing. |
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AMIENS
I would not change it. Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. |
AMIENS
I wouldn’t change my situation for anything. You’re lucky, my lord, to be able to see the peace and sweetness even in what bad luck has brought you. |
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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 forkèd heads Have their round haunches gored. |
DUKE SENIOR
Come, shall we hunt some deer for dinner? It bothers me, though, that these poor spotted innocents, who, after all, are this deserted city’s native citizens, should be gouged with arrows. |
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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 banished you. Today 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 sequestered 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 markèd of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th’ extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. |
FIRST LORD
Indeed, my lord, the gloomy Jaques grieves over these deaths. He swears that when you kill the deer, you’re a worse usurper than your brother was for banishing you. Today, Lord Amiens and I followed Jaques. We saw him lie down along a brook under an oak tree whose ancient roots peeked out from the earth. A poor, lonely stag who had been hurt by a hunter’s arrow came to rest there, where he heaved such heavy groans that the effort seemed to stretch his hide to bursting. Big, round tears ran piteously down the animal’s innocent nose. The hairy fool, watched closely by sad Jaques, stood on the very edge of the brook, adding his own tears to the streaming water. |
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DUKE SENIOR
But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? |
DUKE SENIOR
And what did Jaques say? Didn’t he take the opportunity to draw a moral from the scene? |
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FIRST LORD
Oh, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping into 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 there alone, Left and abandoned of his velvet friend, “’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 assigned and native dwelling place. |
FIRST LORD
Oh, yes, he created a thousand comparisons. First, he spoke of the deer’s needless addition to the stream’s water supply. “Poor deer,” he said, “you’re just like a human: you add more to what already has too much.” Then, about the deer’s being alone, abandoned by his velvety companions: “It’s appropriate,” he said, “that a miserable creature should excuse itself from company.” Just then, a carefree herd of deer, having just eaten their fill of pasture grass, bounded along without stopping to greet their wounded brother. “Sure,” said Jaques, “hurry on, you fat and greasy citizens. Why stop and notice this poor, broken, bankrupt creature here?” In this way, he most insightfully pierced to the heart of the country, the city, the court, and even our lives out here in the forest, swearing that we are mere usurpers and tyrants, frightening and killing animals in their own homes. |
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DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him in this contemplation? |
DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him like this? |
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SECOND LORD
We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. |
SECOND LORD
We did, my lord, weeping and carrying on about the sobbing deer. |
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DUKE SENIOR
Show me the place. I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he’s full of matter. |
DUKE SENIOR
Take me to him. I love to argue with him when he’s having one of these fits, because then he always has a lot to say. |
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FIRST LORD
I’ll bring you to him straight. |
FIRST LORD
I’ll bring you to him right away. |
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Exeunt |
They all exit. |