THE INCORRIGIBLE.
Pol.
“If at home, sir,
He’s all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all;
He makes a July’s day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.”
Winter’s Tale, Act 1, Scene 2.