Such knives as oxen's hides explore,
Add dishes, be they three or more. —Mitchell.
Timocles. (Book vi. § 2, p. 354.)
Nay, my good friend, but hear me! I confess
Man is the child of sorrow, and this world,
In which we breathe, hath cares enough to plague us;
But it hath means withal to soothe these cares,
And he, who meditates on other's woes,
Shall in that meditation lose his own: