SCENE VII. Another part of the Forest Enter Duke Senior, Amiens and Lords as outlaws. DUKE SENIOR. I think he be transformed into a beast, For I can nowhere find him like a man. FIRST LORD. My lord, he is but even now gone hence; Here was he merry, hearing of a song. DUKE SENIOR. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. Go seek him, tell him I would speak with him. Enter Jaques. FIRST LORD. He saves my labour by his own approach. DUKE SENIOR. Why, how now, monsieur? What a life is this That your poor friends must woo your company? What, you look merrily. JAQUES. 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, Who 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.” And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock. Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags. ’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more ’twill be eleven. And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative, And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. O noble fool! A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear. DUKE SENIOR. What fool is this? JAQUES. O worthy fool!—One that hath been a courtier, And says if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it. And in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat. DUKE SENIOR. Thou shalt have one. JAQUES. It is my only suit, Provided that you weed your better judgements Of all opinion that grows rank in them That I am wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have. And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The “why” is plain as way to parish church. He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob. If not, The wise man’s folly is anatomized Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Invest me in my motley. Give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th’ infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. DUKE SENIOR. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. JAQUES. What, for a counter, would I do but good?