Chapter 13

WILL. Once in my life I have an odd half-hour to spare, To ease myself of all my travail and my care. I stood not still so long this twenty days, I ween, But ever more sent forth on messages I have been. Such trudging and such toil, by the mass, was never seen; My body is worn out, and spent with labour clean. And this it is that makes me look so lean. That lets my growth, and makes me seem a squall;[434] What then, although my stature be not tall, Yet I am as proper as you, so neat and cleanly, And have my joints at commandment full of activity. What should a servant do with all this flesh and bones, That, makes them run with leaden heels, and stir themself like stones? Give me a proper squire much after my pitch, And mark how he from place to place will squich;[435] Fair or foul, thick or thin, mire or dusty; Cloud or rain, light or dark, clear or misty: Ride or run, to or fro, bad or good: A neat little fellow on his business will scud. These great lubbers[436] are neither active nor wise, That feed till they sleep, and sleep out their eyes. So heavy, so dull, so untoward in their doing, That it is a good sight to see them leave working. But all this while, while I stand prating here, I see not my master; I left him snorting here.

[_Exit_.