SONG.
Under the green-wood tree,
Who loves to lye with me,
And tune his merry note,
Unto the sweet bird's throat;
Come hither, come hither, come hither,
Here shall he see
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq.
More, more, I pr'ythee, more.
Ami.
It will make you melancholly, Monsieur Jaques.
Jaq.
I thank it; more, I pr'ythee, more; I can such melancholy
out of a song, as a weazel sucks eggs: more, I pr'ythee,
more.
Ami.
My voice is rugged, I know I cannot please you.
Jaq.
I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to
sing; come, come, another stanzo: call you 'em stanzo's?
Ami.
What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
Jaq.
Nay, I care not for their names, they owe me nothing.
Will you sing?
-- 212 --
Ami.
More at your request, than to please my self.
Jaq.
Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you;
but that they call compliment is like th' encounter of two dog-apes.
And when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have
given him a penny, and he renders me the beggarly thanks.
Come sing, and you that will not, hold your tongues—
Ami.
Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the
Duke will dine under this tree; he hath been all this day to look
you.
Jaq.
And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too
disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he,
but I give heav'n thanks, and make no boast of them. Come,
warble, come.
SONG.
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to lye i'th' sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleas'd with what he gets;
Come hither, come hither, come hither;
Here shall he see
No enemy,
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq.
I'll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday
in despight of my invention.
Ami.
And I'll sing it.
Jaq.
Thus it goes.
If it do come to pass,
That any man turn ass;
Leaving his wealth and ease,
A stubborn will to please,
-- 213 --
Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame;
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
And if he will come to me.
Ami.
What's that ducdame?
Jaq.
'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle.
I'll go sleep if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born
of Egypt.
Ami.
And I'll go seek the Duke: his banquet is prepar'd.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].