Into an age of sleep, 'twere something: and those men
O'er whom that one word 'ownership' uprears me--
If I could make them lift a finger up
But of their own free will, I'd own my seizin.
But now--when if I sold them, life and limb,
There's not a sow would litter one pig less
Than when men called her mine.--Possession's naught;
A parchment ghost; a word I am ashamed
To claim even here, lest all the forest spirits,
And bees who drain unasked the free-born flowers,
Should mock, and cry, 'Vain man, not thine, but ours.'

Wal. Possession's naught? Possession's beef and ale--
Soft bed, fair wife, gay horse, good steel.--Are they naught?
Possession means to sit astride of the world,
Instead of having it astride of you;
Is that naught? 'Tis the easiest trade of all too;
For he that's fit for nothing else, is fit
To own good land, and on the slowest dolt
His state sits easiest, while his serfs thrive best.

Lewis. How now? What need then of long discipline,
Not to mere feats of arms, but feats of soul;
To courtesies and high self-sacrifice,
To order and obedience, and the grace
Which makes commands, requests, and service, favour?
To faith and prayer, and pure thoughts, ever turned
To that Valhalla, where the virgin saints
And stainless heroes tend the Queen of heaven?
Why these, if I but need, like stalled ox