Fellowship
A. Now, fellow?
B. Fellow me not.
A. How now, good friend!
Are we not fellows? Do not morn and eye
Bring the same hunger to our scanty boards?
Come not warm Summer, bleak December's cold,
Darkness and dreaming sleep, to both,—alike?
In what strange transit of the labouring moon
Wast thou sent forth, that thou shouldst soar beyond
The regular flight of men?—Give me thy hand.
B. Fellow me not.
A. How now, good friend!
Are we not fellows? Do not morn and eye
Bring the same hunger to our scanty boards?
Come not warm Summer, bleak December's cold,
Darkness and dreaming sleep, to both,—alike?
In what strange transit of the labouring moon
Wast thou sent forth, that thou shouldst soar beyond
The regular flight of men?—Give me thy hand.
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