Enter JAQUES, LORDS, and FORESTERS
Which is he that killed the deer?
Sir, it was I.
Let’s present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer’s horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose?
Sing it: ’tis no matter how it be in tune,
make noise enough.
What shall he have that kill’d the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear.
Then sing him home;
(The rest shall bear this burden)
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born:
Thy father’s father wore it,
And thy father bore it:
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.