William Shakspeare.
“Wonderful things! things beyond belief! ‘There be certain men,’ quoth he—”
Sir Thomas.
“He began well. This promises. But why canst not thou go on?”
William Shakspeare.
“‘There be certain men, who, rubbing one corner of the eye, do see a peacock’s feather at the other, and even fire. We know, William, what that fire is, and whence it cometh. Those wicked men, William, all have their marks upon them, be it only a corn, or a wart, or a mole, or a hairy ear, or a toe-nail turned inward. Sufficient, and more than sufficient! He knoweth his own by less tokens. There is not one of them that doth not sweat at some secret sin committed, or some inclination toward it unsnaffled.
“‘Certain men are there, likewise, who venerate so little the glorious works of the Creator that I myself have known them to sneeze at the sun! Sometimes it was against their will, and they would gladly have checked it had they been able; but they were forced to shew what they are. In our carnal state we say, What is one against numbers? In another we shall truly say, What are numbers against one?’”
Sir Thomas did ejaculate, “Amen! Amen!” And then his lips moved silently, piously, and quickly; and then said he, audibly and loudly,—
“And make us at last true Israelites!”
After which he turned to young Willy, and said, anxiously,—