Adam.
Dear Master, I can go no further:
O I die for Food! Here lye I down,

And measure out my Grave. Farewel, kind Master.

Orl.
Why how now, Adam! no greater Heart in thee?
Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thy self a little.
If this uncouth Forest yield any thing 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 a while
At the Arm's end: I will be here 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 any thing in this Desart.
Cheerly, good Adam. [Exeunt.

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