As You Like It. Act 2, Scene 1. Duke Senior
(This text is featured in our interview with Nick Newlin)
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- 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 but 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 counsellors
- 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 every thing.
- I would not change it.