Fool. Didst see him! how look'd he?
2 Vil. I tended him, some quarter of an hour:—troth, he seem'd wondrous weary.
Fool. Of thy company.—Now could I be weary too, and find in my heart to be dull:—but here come females; and, were a man's head emptier than a spendthrift's purse, they will ever bring something out on't. Hence comes it, that your dull husband's head is improved by your lively wife:—if she can bring out nothing else, why she brings out horns.
Enter Villagers, Male and Female.
Now, good folk, whither go you?
3 Vil. Truly, sir, this is our season for making of hay; and here am I, sir, with the rest of our village, going about it.
Fool. Now might I, were it not for disgracing the army, turn mower among these clowns;—and why not? Soldiers are but cutters down of flesh, and flesh is grass, all the world over. I'll e'en out, this morning, and do execution in the field.—Come, lads and maidens! One roundelay, and we'll to't!
SONG AND CHORUS OF VILLAGERS.
1 Wom. Drifted snow no more is seen;