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Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun,
And loves to live i' the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Jaques replies:
If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please, Ducdamè, ducdamè, ducdamè: Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me.
136. Blow blow, thou Winter Wind
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
