Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS like outlaws.
I think he be transformed into a beast,
For I can nowhere find him like a man.
My lord, he is but even now gone hence.
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
5If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go seek him. Tell him I would speak with him.
He saves my labor by his own approach.
Why, how now, monsieur? What a life is this
10That your poor friends must woo your company?
What, you look merrily.
A fool, a fool, I met a fool i' th' forest,
A motley fool. A miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool,
15Who laid him down and basked him in the sun
And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
“Good morrow, fool,” quoth I. “No, sir,” quoth he,
“Call me not ‘fool’ till heaven hath sent me fortune.”