Forasmuch as there be two states of a commonwealth, the one of peace, the other of tranquillity; two states of war, the one of discord, the other of dissension; two states of an incorporation, the one of the aldermen, the other of the brethren; two states of magistrates, the one of governing, the other of bearing rule. Now, as I said even now--for a good thing[125] cannot be said too often. Virtue is the shoeing-horn of justice; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing well; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing justly; it behoveth me, and is my part to commend this shoeing-horn unto you. I hope this word shoeing-horn doth not offend any of you, my worshipful brethren; for you, being the worshipful headsmen of the town, know well what the horn meaneth. Now therefore I am determined not only to teach, but also to instruct, not only the ignorant, but also the simple; not only what is their duty towards their betters, but also what is their duty towards their superiors. Come, let me see how you can do; sit down in the chair. PHILOMUSUS. Forasmuch as there be, &c. KEMP. Thou wilt do well in time, if thou wilt be ruled by thy betters, that is, by myself, and such grave aldermen of the playhouse as I am. BURBAGE. I like your face, and the proportion of your body for Richard the Third. I pray, Master Philomusus, let me see you act a little of it. PHILOMUSUS. _Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by the sun of York_. BURBAGE. Very well, I assure you. Well, Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, we see what ability you are of; I pray, walk with us to our fellows, and we'll agree presently. PHILOMUSUS. We will follow you straight, Master Burbage. KEMP. It's good manners to follow us, Master Philomusus and Master Otioso. PHILOMUSUS. And must the basest trade yield us relief? Must we be practis'd to those leaden spouts, That nought down vent but what they do receive? Some fatal fire hath scorch'd our fortune's wing, And still we fall, as we do upward spring? As we strive upward on the vaulted sky, We fall, and feel our hateful destiny. STUDIOSO. Wonder it is, sweet friend, thy pleading breath, So like the sweet blast of the south-west wind, Melts not those rocks of ice, those mounts of snow,[126] Congeal'd in frozen hearts of men below. PHILOMUSUS. Wonder, as well thou may'st, why 'mongst the waves-- 'Mongst the tempestuous waves on raging sea, The wailing merchant can no pity crave. What cares the wind and weather for their pains? One strikes the sail, another turns the same; He shakes the main, another takes the oar, Another laboureth and taketh pain To pump the sea into the sea again: Still they take pains, still the loud winds do blow, Till the ship's prouder mast be laid below.