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 heav’n 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 may we see,” quoth he, “how the world wags;