Or that the long, eternal sleep of death
Would close life’s wretched, weary pilgrimage.
Pas. Oh! sister, an thou lov’st me, grieve not so.
Fla. If charity be meek, e’en so will I;
And where thou lead’st, resign’d I’ll follow thee.
Fool. Marry! an you’ll listen to a fool, perchance he may, for once, speak wisely.
Pas. Out with thy counsel, then.
Fool. Thus it is:—chance hath made me your Fool; and chance will now, that your Fool speak something like wisdom: marry, is not this the road to Scotland? Dost understand me?
Pas. Truly, I understand thee.
Fool. To’t again:—what say’st thou o’ joining the young princes on their march?