By summer’s tyranny? Hadst thou said this,
And that Earth’s changeful pride, the life of man,
Is exquisite in such a quality
To make the high gods envious could they guess:
Then had I found no answer: but when I
Told thee of joy, and set thee in the midst,
That thou shouldst argue with me that ’tis best
To die at once, and for an empty name
Pass to the trivial shades; then must I fear
I have as thankless and unwise a son,