Part 10

Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more, I can sucke melancholly out of a song, As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more

Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please you

Iaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's? Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques

Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee nothing. Wil you sing? Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe

Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke you: but that they cal complement is like th' encounter of two dog-Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily, me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not hold your tongues

Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while, the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this day to looke you

Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him: He is too disputeable for my companie: I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue Heauen thankes, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.

Song. Altogether heere.

Who doth ambition shunne, and loues to liue i'th Sunne: Seeking the food he eates, and pleas'd with what he gets: Come hither, come hither, come hither, Heere shall he see. &c

Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note, That I made yesterday in despight of my Inuention

Amy. And Ile sing it

Amy. Thus it goes. If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse: Leauing his wealth and ease, A stubborne will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he, And if he will come to me

Amy. What's that Ducdame? Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle. Ile go sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all the first borne of Egypt

Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke, His banket is prepar'd.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter Orlando, & Adam

Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further: O I die for food. Heere lie I downe, And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master

Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee: Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little. If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage, I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee: Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers. For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently, And if I bring thee not something to eate, I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor. Wel said, thou look'st cheerely, And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee To some shelter, and thou shalt not die For lacke of a dinner, If there liue any thing in this Desert. Cheerely good Adam.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes.

Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast, For I can no where finde him, like a man

1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence, Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song

Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall, We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares: Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him. Enter Iaques.

1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach

Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this That your poore friends must woe your companie, What, you looke merrily

Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest, A motley Foole (a miserable world:) As I do liue by foode, I met a foole, Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes, In good set termes, and yet a motley foole. Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he, Call me not foole, till heauen hath sent me fortune, And then he drew a diall from his poake, And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye, Sayes, very wisely, it is ten a clocke: Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges: 'Tis but an houre agoe, since it was nine, And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen, And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe, And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot, And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare The motley Foole, thus morall on the time, My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere, That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue: And I did laugh, sans intermission An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole, A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare