Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 01 of 10: the Custom of the Country

Enter Rutilio, and Arnold[o]. Rut. Why do you grieve thus still? Arn. 'Twould melt a Marble, And tame a Savage man, to feel my fortune. Rut. What fortune? I have liv'd this thirty years, And run through all these follies you call fortunes, Yet never fixt on any good and constant, But what I made myself: why should I grieve then At that I may mould any way?