Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others.
Song.
Vnder the greene wood tree, who loues to lye with mee, And turne his merrie Note, vnto the sweet Birds throte: Come hither, come hither, come hither: Heere shall he see no enemie, But Winter and rough Weather
Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more
Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques
Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more,
I can sucke melancholly out of a song,
As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more
Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please
you
Iaq. I do not desire you to please me,
I do desire you to sing:
Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's?
Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques
Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee
nothing. Wil you sing?
Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe