Beggar

Art thou a man, and sham'st thou not to beg? To practice such a servile kind of life? Why, were thy education ne'er so mean, Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses Offer themselves to thy election. Either the wars might still supply thy wants, Or service of some virtuous gentleman, Or honest labour: nay, what can I name, But would become thee better than to beg? But men of thy condition feed on sloth, As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in; Not caring how the metal of your minds Is eaten with the rust of idleness. Now, after me; whate'er he be, that should Relieve a person of thy quality, While thou insist in this loose desp'rate course, I would esteem the sin, not thine but his.