That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
020 Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
Duke S. 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 forked heads
Have their round haunches gored.
First Lord.
025 Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,