Fool. Why, to be brief, good master, I needs would sing; but that gentle lady hath crack’d the strings o’ my voice: an ’twill please you weep, marry I’ll take the loudest pipe; and should I fail in giving entertainment, why then I’ll to Paul’s, and there, i’the presence of Bonner, be whipped for a slanderer.
Pas. I pray thee, Fool, do as I list.
Fool. Now, then, I’ll pipe; but, by my troth, you seem sad, and needs will me to sing merrily well, an folly will please you, I’ll to’t straight.
Fool sings.
A Fool must needs be merry,
Lack, lack, and a well a day!
And in his shoes must bury
His sorrow, and all his care.
Then is not the Fool’s lot hard;
Is not his mind sore treated;