LORD. 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 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 marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
But what said Jaques ?
Did he not moralize this spectacle ?
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 abandoned of his velvet friends :