For he that’s in the sun begot this body
Upon a mortal woman, and I have heard tell
It seemed as if he had outrun the moon;
That he must follow always through waste heaven,
He loved so happily. He’ll be but slow
To break a tree that was so sweetly planted.
Let’s see that arm. I’ll see it if I choose.
That arm had a good father and a good mother,
But it is not like this.
YOUNG MAN.