To travail 'mong new faces, other minds."
Slowly M'Arthur answer'd from the coach:
"The old Mayor changeth, yielding place to new,
Lest one good citizen have all the fun.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
My reign is o'er, nor may it do thee harm
If thou dost never see my face again.
But now farewell. I am going a long way
With these thou see'st—if, indeed, we can
(For narrow and becrowded is the route)—