In the general chorus of pleasure there was only one discordant note. Jaques the cynic—“melancholy Jaques”—refused to join in the harmless mirth. He announced his intention of following Duke Frederick into retirement. He bade the others all follow their different forms of enjoyment,—as for himself, “I am for other than for dancing measures,” he declared.
“Stay, Jaques—stay,” begged the Duke.
“Not to see any pastime,” was the grim response. “If you want anything, I will stay to hear it at your abandoned cave.”
Like King Solomon of old, Jaques had tasted all the pleasures of life, and had delighted in studying his fellow-mortals; but his stores of wit and wisdom brought him no real satisfaction. “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” was all that his worldly philosophy had taught him, and his sharp-eyed cynicism saw only the base and ludicrous side of human nature. So he went his way, rejecting the kindly fellowship that was offered him, and taking a half-exultant pride in his own loneliness and melancholy.
But the Duke ordered the rejoicings to proceed, and the green glades of the Forest of Arden rang with the sound of song and laughter.
The Taming of the Shrew
