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Where fortune gilds the prize, might suit him well. Why dost thou shake thy head?

What might be, and what is, stand far apart, When age and youth on the same objects look.

Was I not young, when, of thy grandsire's daughters, I chose the fairest, and was plainly told Her heart and hand were promised to another? But did I then perversely mope and pine? No, I trow not: I cleared my cloudy brow, And wooed the second fairest, thy poor mother.

So will not he.

Why so: belike he will not, If thou abet his folly, as, methinks, Thou art inclined to do.

No, father; not inclined: I shall regret As much as you, if any prepossession Prevent him from approving this fair maid, Who is, indeed, most gentle and engaging.

Out on thy prepossessions! Younger sons,