Prince Volscius in a single boot. Act iii. scene, 2. — Volscius sits down.
How has my passion made me Cupid's scoff,
This hasty boot is on, the other off,
And sullen lies with amorous design
To quit loud fame and make that beauty mine.
My legs, the emblem of my various thought,
Show to what sad distraction I am brought.
Sometimes with stubborn honour like this boot
My mind is guarded and resolved to do't.
Sometimes again that very mind by love
Disarmed like this other boot does prove.
What pains Mr. Bayes takes to act this speech himself.
I, the fool, I see, is mightily transported with it.
Shall I to honour or to love give way?
Go on, cries Honour, tender Love says nay.
Honour aloud commands, Pluck both boots on,
But softer Love does whisper Put on none.
What shall I do, what conduct shall I find
To lead me through this twilight of my mind?
For as bright day with black approach of night
Contending, makes a doubtful puzzling light,
So does my honour and my love together
Puzzle me so I can resolve on neither.'
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