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	Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
	Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down
	Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth
	Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
	In passion shook.

GLENDOWER	                  Cousin, of many men
	I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
	To tell you once again that at my birth
	The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
	The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
	Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
	These signs have mark'd me extraordinary;
	And all the courses of my life do show
	I am not in the roll of common men.
	Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea
	That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,
	Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
	And bring him out that is but woman's son
	Can trace me in the tedious ways of art