How, since I fly my country, should I seek
Refuge in other states, malignant eyes
Would scowl on me when known, and bitter tongues
Goad me with these reproaches:—Is not this
The son of Jove, who slew his sons and wife?
Then bid me thence with curses on my head.
And to the man, whose former days were passed
In happier fortune, mournful is the change;
But him, that in distresses hath been trained,
Naught grieves, as though lie were allied to ills.