AMIENS, JAQUES, and others enter.
Whoever wants to lie with me,
Under the greenwood tree,
And turn his merry song
To follow the sweet bird’s singing,
Come here, come here, come here.
Here you will find
Besides winter and rough weather.
More, more, please, more.
It’s only going to make you sad, Monsieur Jaques.
I’m glad about that. More, please, more. I can suck sadness out of a song the way a weasel sucks eggs. More, please, more.
My voice is ragged. I know I won’t please you.
I don’t want you to please me, I want you to sing. Come on, another stanza—is that what you call 'em, “stanzas”?
Call them whatever you want, Monsieur Jaques.
Nah, I don’t care what their names
are; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?
By “names,” Jaques is thinking of the signatures on I.O.U notes, in which the name legally requires that the debt be honored.