Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough, and one that loves
quails, but he has not so much brain as ear-wax; and the goodly
transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, the
primitive statue and oblique memorial of cockolds; a thrifty
shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg, to what
form but that he is should wit larded with malice and malice
forced with wit turn him to? To an ass, were nothing; he is both
ass and ox: to an ox, were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To
be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a
puttock, or a herring without roe, I would not care; but to be
Memelaus! I would conspire against destiny.