Eur.Why, methinks I see
A fine celestial glory on his crown,
So brightly gleams the torchlight on it: nay,
And never a hair at all. (To Ul.) Old man, ’tis true
Thou’rt out at elbows; wilt thou earn a living,
I’ll take thee on. If thou canst gather stones
Or trench, I’ll find thee wages and good food,
Ay, and a coat and shoes: but well I know
Thou’rt practised but in sloth, or if thou bend
Thy body, ’tis in louting thro’ the land