For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast. Keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue. If you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an enter’d tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost:—
Or like a gallant horse, fall’n in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O’er-run and trampled. Then what they do in present,