That to your wanting may be minister’d.
Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
[130] Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp’d in pure love: till he be first sufficed,
[132] Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.
Duke S.
Go find him out,