1:10:01
Come on, my boy.
1:10:04
How dost thou, boy?
Art cold?
1:10:09
Am cold myself.
Where is this straw,
my fellow?
1:10:13
The art of our necessities
is strange
1:10:16
and can make
vile things precious.
1:10:20
Come, your hovel.
1:10:21
Poor fool and knave,
1:10:25
I have one part
in my heart that's
sorry yet for thee.
1:10:31
# He that has and a little tiny wit #
1:10:35
# With a heigh-ho the wind
And the rain #
1:10:38
# Must make content
With his fortunes fit #
1:10:42
# Though the rain it raineth
Every day ##
1:10:49
My lord. Good my lord, enter.
1:10:52
Thou think'st 'tis much
that this contentious storm
invades us to the skin;
1:10:56
so 'tis to thee,
1:10:58
but where the greater
malady is fix'd,
the lesser is scarce felt.
1:11:03
Thou'dst shun a bear;
1:11:05
but if thy flight lay toward
the roaring sea, thou'dst
meet the bear i' th' mouth.
1:11:10
When the mind's free,
1:11:12
the body is delicate.
1:11:16
This tempest in my mind
1:11:18
doth from my senses
take all feeling else,
1:11:22
save what beats there.
1:11:24
Filial ingratitude.
1:11:27
But I will punish home.
No, I'll weep no more.
1:11:34
In such a night,
to shut me out!
1:11:37
Pour on;
1:11:40
I will endure!
1:11:46
Nay, get thee in.
1:11:51
I'll pray,
1:11:53
and then I'll sleep.