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Alas, poor Mitsu 55"! I knew him [well]: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it.
Here hung those [cables] that I have treasured I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Get thee off to a "recyclery!"
Or, some poor man's spare parts in another play.
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