Deal to each mortal his dole of light
On earth—the upper, the glad, the bright.
Clotho. Even so: thus from my loaded spindle
Plucking a pinch of the fleece, lo, "Birth"
Brays from my bronze lip: life I kindle:
Look, 't is a man! go, measure on earth
The minute thy portion, whatever its worth!
Lachesis. Woe-purfled, weal-prankt,—if it speed, if it linger,—
Life's substance and show are determined by me,