As You Like It: Act II: Scene I Complete Paraphrase

Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or threeLORDS, like foresters        DUKE
SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or threeLORDS enter, dressed like foresters. 

        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. 

        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. 

        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. 

        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. 

        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? 

        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. 

        DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him in this contemplation? 

DUKE SENIOR
And did you leave him like this? 

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. 

FIRST LORD
I’ll bring you to him straight. 

FIRST LORD
I’ll bring you to him right away. 

Exeunt  They all exit