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When I think on one, with his confederates, I remember the danger of Coriolanus, who was afraid that "girls with spits, and boys with stones, should slay him in puny battle;" when the other crosses my imagination, I remember the prodigy in "Macbeth", An eagle tow'ring in his pride of place, was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. Let me however do them justice. One is a wit, and one a scholar.
When I think on one, with his confederates, I remember the danger of Coriolanus, who was afraid that girls with spits, and boys with stones, should slay him in puny battle; when the other crosses my imagination, I remember the prodigy in Macbeth, An eagle tow'ring in his pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. Let me however do them justice. One is a wit, and one a scholar.