To pillow his head, and pass the festive day
In sportive feasts, and ease, and revelry?
Have you not often in your conscience ask’d
Why is the difference, wherefore should that man
No worthier than myself, thus lord it over me,
And bid me labour, and enjoy the fruits?
The God within your breasts has argued thus!
The voice of truth has murmur’d; came he not
As helpless to the world?—shines not the sun
With equal ray on both?—do ye not feel