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416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1633
Meleander: But I’ll outstare ‘ee all; fools, desperate fools!
You are cheated, grossly cheated; range, range on
And roll about the world to gather moss,
The moss of honour, gay reports, gay clothes,
Gay wives, huge empty buildings, whose proud roofs
Shall, with their pinnacles, even reach the stars.
Ye work and work like moles, blind in the paths
That are bored through the crannies of the earth,
To charge your hungry souls with such full surfeited
As being forged once, make ‘ee lean with plenty.
And when ye have skimmed the vomit of your riots,
Y’are far in no felicity but folly;
Then your last sleeps seize on ‘ee. Then the troops
Of worms crawl round and feast; good cheer, rich fare,
Dainty, delicious—
—John Ford, The Lover’s Melancholy, 2.2.83