What’s your Will?
Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb
to scratch. I must to the barber’s, monsieur; for
methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I
am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me,
I must scratch.
What, wilt thou hear some music,
my sweet love?
I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let’s have
the tongs and the bones.
Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.
Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good
dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle
of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.