ADAM. Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. ORLANDO. Why, how now, Adam! No greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield anything savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end. I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air. Come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! Exeunt SCENE VII. The forest A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and LORDS, like outlaws DUKE SENIOR. I think he be transform'd 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 bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd 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 cramm'd With observation, the which he vents