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Exeunt.

¶

[A table set out.] Enter Duke Senior, [Amiens,] and Lord[s], like outlaws.

Duke S.

I think he be transform’d into a beast,

For I can no where find him like a man.

1. Lord.

My lord, he is but even now gone hence;

Here was he merry, hearing of a song.

Duke S.

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.

1. Lord.

He saves my labor by his own approach.

Duke S.

Why, how now, monsieur, what a life is this,

That your poor friends must woo your company?

What, you look merrily!

Jaq.

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,