Whence first I had it, to yourself: receive it,
I pray you, as your own. You, in your flower,
May serve your generation, and permit
Your old friends to betake themselves to rest.
’Twill be your praise, sire, to have enriched such men
As could live happy in a mean estate.
Tig. (half aside). There’s something behind this.
Ner. (to Tig.). Silence, I bid!
(To Sen.) If, Seneca, I am able out of hand
To meet thy long premeditated speech