Read it through once

Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one, I haue tyr'd my selfe: and for two nights together Haue made the ground my bed. I should be sicke, But that my resolution helpes me: Milford, When from the Mountaine top, Pisanio shew'd thee, Thou was't within a kenne. Oh Ioue, I thinke Foundations flye the wretched: such I meane, Where they should be releeu'd. Two Beggers told me, I could not misse my way. Will poore Folkes lye That haue Afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment, or Triall? Yes; no wonder, When Rich-ones scarse tell true. To lapse in Fulnesse Is sorer, then to lye for Neede: and Falshood Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord, Thou art one o'th' false Ones: Now I thinke on thee, My hunger's gone; but euen before, I was At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this? Heere is a path too't: 'tis some sauage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine Ere cleane it o're-throw Nature, makes it valiant. Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who's heere? If any thing that's ciuill, speake: if sauage, Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter. Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy But feare the Sword like me, hee'l scarsely looke on't. Such a Foe, good Heauens. Enter.