Dear master, I can go no further.
O, I die for food! Here lie I down,
And measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.

Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee?
Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little.
If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage,
I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee.
Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers.
For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile
At the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently;
And if I bring thee not something to eat,
I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest
Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour.
Well said! thou lookest cheerly,
And I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest
In the bleak air: come, I will bear thee
To some shelter; and thou shalt not die
For lack of a dinner,
If there live any thing in this desert.
Cheerly, good Adam!