With the changing sameness, old variety,
We sit us down, and view our former joys
With distaste and dislike.
Prince.
Then if we must tug for experience
Let us not fear to beat round Nature's wilds
And rouse the strongest prey: then if we fall,
We fall with glory. I know the wolf
Is dangerous to fight, not good for food,
Nor is the hide a comely vestment; so
We have our battle for our pains. I know
That youth has need of age to point fit prey,
And oft the stander-by shall steal the fruit
Of the other's labour. This is philosophy;
These are the tricks of the world; but the pure soul
Shall mount on native wings, disdaining little sport,
And cut a path into the heaven of glory,
Leaving a track of light for men to wonder at.
I'm glad my father does not hear me talk;
You can find friendly excuses for me, Chandos.
But do you not think, Sir John, that if it please
The Almighty to stretch out my span of life,
I shall with pleasure view a glorious action,
Which my youth master'd?
Chandos.
Considerate age, my Lord, views motives,
