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 th’ extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
Duke S.
But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
1. 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 [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 S.
And did you leave him in this contemplation?
2. Lord.
We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
Duke S.
Show me the place.
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he’s full of matter.
1. Lord.
I’ll bring you to him straight.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene II
Enter Duke [Frederick] with Lords.
Duke F.
Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be. Some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.
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
They found the bed untreasur’d of their mistress.
2. 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 wrastler
That did but lately foil the sinowy Charles,
And she believes, where ever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
Duke F.
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.
¶
Scene III
Enter Orlando and Adam, [meeting].
Orl.
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 priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to [some] kind of men
Their
