DUKE SENIOR: But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
First Lord: O, yes, into a thousand similes. 
First, for his weeping into the needless stream;
'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much:' then, being there alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, 
''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 assign'd and native dwelling-place.
DUKE SENIOR: And did you leave him in this contemplation?
Second Lord: We did, my lord, weeping and commenting 
Upon the sobbing deer.
DUKE SENIOR: Show me the place:
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.
First Lord: I'll bring you to him straight.