You had but one bare course, and that was pick, rise, and walk:
And surely, for all your talk of philosophy,
I never heard that a man with words could fill his belly.
Feed your eyes, quoth you? the reason from my wisdom swerveth,
I stared on you both, and yet my belly starveth.
Damon. Ah, Stephano, small diet maketh a fine memory.
Stephano. I care not for your crafty sophistry,
You two are fine, let me be fed like a gross knave still;
I pray you licence me for a while to have my will,
At home to tarry, whiles you take view of this city!