They started not unhopefully, but matters did not go well with them. Scarcely knowing where to direct their steps, they plunged into the Forest of Arden, and there, in the depths of the greenwood, they lost their way. Worn out with fatigue, almost starving for food, they wandered on, till at last Adam’s strength failed, and he sank to the ground.
“Dear master, I can go no further. Oh, I die for food!” he gasped. “Farewell, kind master!”
With the tenderest words Orlando strove to cheer the poor old man, and, carefully placing him in a more sheltered spot, he dashed off almost desperate in his quest for food.
Not far off in the forest a very different scene was taking place. In the bright days of early summer the days slipped pleasantly past with the banished Duke and his little band of faithful followers. Clad in their foresters’ garb, and living the simple life of outlaws, they hunted, sang, laughed, and feasted under the greenwood tree. The most notable of the band was a certain lord called Jaques, who had been a brilliant and reckless courtier in his early days, but was now a cynic and philosopher, half sad, half satiric, whose moods seemed to vary between biting humour and pensive melancholy. He had a sharp tongue, and took no pains to make himself agreeable, but his quaint moralisings afforded much entertainment to his companions, and especially to the Duke.
On the day when Orlando and Adam were starving in one part of the forest, the Duke and his band were having a merry time in another part. One of the lords, by name Amiens, could sing very pleasingly, and he now led a ditty in praise of their woodland life, while the others joined in the chorus:
“Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
“Who doth ambition shun And loves to live in the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.”
The banquet was spread, and the Duke had taken his place, when Jaques came up, apparently much diverted with something he had just seen.
“A fool! a fool!” he cried. “I met a fool in the forest!”
The cynical lord was amused to find a fellow-philosopher under the motley of a fool, and quoted the mangled scraps of moral wisdom he had let fall, with much enjoyment.