Page 1138 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv’st to get,
And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects

After the moon. If thou art rich, thou’rt poor; [25]
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And Death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;

For thine own bowels which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins, [30]
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age,

But as it were an after-dinner’s sleep
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms [35]
Of palsied eld: and when thou art old and rich,

Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty
To make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we fear [40]

That makes these odds all even.

CLAUDIO
I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die,
And seeking death, find life. Let it come on.

ISABELLA
[within]

What hoa! Peace here; grace and good company!

PROVOST
Who’s there? Come in; the wish deserves a welcome. [45]

DUKE
Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.

CLAUDIO