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 th’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 Th’ Almighty to stretch out my span of life, I shall with pleasure view a glorious action Which my youth mastered?