conceptious

That nature , being sick of man’s unkindness ,
Should yet be hungry ! Common mother ,
thou
Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast
Teems and feeds all ; whose selfsame mettle —
Whereof thy proud child , arrogant man , is puffed —
Engenders the black toad and adder blue ,
The gilded newt and eyeless venomed worm ,
With all th’ abhorrèd births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion’s quick’ning fire doth shine :
Yield him who all thy human sons do hate ,
From forth thy plenteous bosom , one poor root !
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb ;
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man .
Go great with tigers , dragons , wolves , and bears ;
Teem with new monsters , whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented . O , a root ! Dear thanks !
Dry up thy marrows , vines , and plow-torn leas ,
Whereof ingrateful man with liquorish drafts
And morsels unctuous greases his pure mind ,
That from it all consideration slips —



More man ? Plague , plague !