Drum. Upon my shoul but I have been a drummer these twenty years, master, and have seen no wars yet; and I was willing to learn a little of my trade before I died.
Fust. Hush, sirrah! don't you be witty; that is not in your part.
Drum. I don't know what is in my part, sir; but T desire to have something in it; for I have been tired of doing nothing a great while.
Fust. Silence!
Q. C. S. What is the reason, madam, that you bring These hostile arms into my peaceful realm?
_Q. Ign. To ease your subjects from that dire oppression They groan beneath, which longer to support Unable, they invited my redress.
Q. C. S. And can my subjects then complain of wrong? Base and ungrateful! what is their complaint?
Q. Ign. They say you do impose a tax of thought Upon their minds, which they're too weak to bear.
Q. C. S. Wouldst thou from thinking then absolve mankind?
Q. Ign. I would, for thinking only makes men wretched;
And happiness is still the lot of fools.
Why should a wise man wish to think, when thought
Still hurts his pride; in spite of all his art,
Malicious fortune, by a lucky train
Of accidents, shall still defeat his schemes,
And set the greatest blunderer above him.