untread

We do believe thee , and beshrew my soul
But I do love the favor and the form
Of this most fair occasion , by the which
We will untread the steps of damnèd flight ,
And like a bated and retirèd flood ,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course ,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o’erlooked
And calmly run on in obedience
Even to our ocean , to our great King John .
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ,
For I do see the cruel pangs of death
Right in thine eye . — Away , my friends ! New flight ,
And happy newness , that intends old right .

That ever holds . Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down ?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first ? All things that are ,
Are with more spirit chasèd than enjoyed .
How like a younger or a prodigal
The scarfèd bark puts from her native bay ,
Hugged and embracèd by the strumpet wind ;
How like the prodigal doth she return
With overweathered ribs and raggèd sails ,
Lean , rent , and beggared by the strumpet wind !