Then must it be most pressing: I consent,
And will not ruffle thee by further question.
But silence for a while: here comes the Fool,
Of him some tidings we, perchance, may glean.
Enter Fool.
Fla. Speak, Fool, when did’st last see my gentle mother?
Fool. Rather ask, when ’twas that I e’er saw thy father in such sort before: marry, he did never speak so roundly to me. Of old, your Fool did make your sage one tremble; but my foolship hath not found it so. Times must indeed be bad, when fools lack wit to battle wise men’s ire. Nay, but I have legs, therefore, can run; a heart, that’s merry, but would be more so, an ’twas drench’d with sack from my ladle: but no matter, that’s empty, till you gentles choose to fill it: then, by your leaves, we’ll walk, and carry our wits where they’ll chance meet better fare.
Pas. Nay, nay; come hither, Fool; be not too hasty.
This fellow’s true and honest; and, dear sister,
Might well our purpose serve: wilt thou consent