Jaques is equally wilful, too, with Touchstone, in his turn of thought and speech, though not so conscious of it; and as he plays his part more to please himself so he is proportionably less open to the healing and renovating influences of Nature.  We cannot justly affirm, indeed, that “the soft blue sky did never melt into his heart,” as Wordsworth says of his Peter Bell; but he shows more of resistance than all the other persons to the poetries and eloquences of the place.  Tears are a great luxury to him:  he sips the cup of woe with all the gust of an epicure.  Still his temper is by no means sour:  fond of solitude, he is nevertheless far from being unsocial.  The society of good men, provided they be in adversity, has great charms for him.  He likes to be with those who, though deserving the best, still have the worst:  virtue wronged, buffeted, oppressed, is his special delight; because such moral discrepancies offer the most salient points to his cherished meditations.  He himself enumerates nearly all the forms of melancholy except his own, which I take to be the melancholy of self-love.  And its effect in his case is not unlike that of Touchstone’s art; inasmuch as he greatly delights to see things otherwise than as they really are, and to make them speak out some meaning that is not in them; that is, their plain and obvious sense is not to his taste.  Nevertheless his melancholy is grateful, because free from any dash of malignity.  His morbid habit of mind seems to spring from an excess of generative virtue.  And how racy and original is everything that comes from him! as if it bubbled up from the centre of his being; while his perennial fulness of matter makes his company always delightful.  The Duke loves especially to meet him in his “sullen fits,” because he then overflows with his most idiomatic humour.  After all, the worst that can be said of Jaques is, that the presence of men who are at once fortunate and deserving corks him up; which may be only another way of saying that he cannot open out and run over, save where things are going wrong.

* * * * *

It is something uncertain whether Jaques or Rosalind be the greater attraction:  there is enough in either to make the play a continual feast; though her charms are less liable to be staled by use, because they result from health of mind and symmetry of character; so that in her presence the head and the heart draw together perfectly.  I mean that she never starts any moral or emotional reluctances in our converse with her:  all our sympathies go along with her freely, because she never jars upon them, or touches them against the grain.