Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
France: Vols. IX–X. 1876–79.
Ardennes
By William Shakespeare (1564–1616)A
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool,
Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun,
And rail’d on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms,—and yet a motley fool.
“Good morrow, fool,” quoth I: “No, sir,” quoth he,
“Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune.”
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, “It is ten o’clock:
Thus may we see,” quoth he, “how the world wags:
’T is but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after an hour more ’t will be eleven:
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.” When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial.—O, noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.