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 th’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 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 should 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.

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

2.2 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 severally

2.3 Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting

ORLANDO Who’s there?

ADAM

What, my young master, O my gentle master,

O my sweet master, O you memory

Of old Sir Rowland, why, what make you here!

Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?

Why would you be so fond to overcome

The bonny prizer of the humorous Duke?

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.

Know you not, master, to some kind of men

Their graces serve them but as enemies?

No more do yours. Your virtues, gentle master,

Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

O, what a world is this, when what is comely

Envenoms him that bears it!

ORLANDO Why, what’s the matter?

ADAM O, unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors. Within this roof

The enemy of all your graces lives,

Your brother—no, no brother—yet the son—

Yet not the son, I will not call him son—

Of him I was about to call his father,

Hath heard your praises, and this night he means

To burn the lodging where you use to lie,

And you within it. If he fail of that,

He will have other means to cut you off.

I overheard him and his practices.

This is no place, this house is but a butchery.

Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

ORLANDO

Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?

ADAM

No matter whither, so you come not here.

ORLANDO

What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food,

Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce

A thievish living on the common road?

This I must do, or know not what to do.

Yet this I will not do, do how I can.

I rather will subject me to the malice

Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.

ADAM

But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,

The thrifty hire I saved under your father,

Which I did store to be my foster-nurse

When service should in my old limbs lie lame,

And unregarded age in corners thrown.

Take that, and he that doth the ravens feed,

Yea providently caters for the sparrow,