Shakespeare not only commented on thankless daughters, the rottenness of certain areas, the relative merits of being and not being, the quality of mercy and the sweet sorrow of parting; he also had some thoughts on jogging, forsooth. Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens. To business that we love we rise betime, And we go't with delight. Makes haste; the better foot before. . . . makes each pretty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. This sweaty haste Doth make the right joint-laborer with the day. Over hill, over dale. Through bush, through brier. Over park, over pale, Through flood, through fire. Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, And merrily hint the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. Wishing his foot were equal with his eye. My lungs begin to crow like chanticleer. Hold, hold my heart, And you my sinews Grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast. The little dogs and all. Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see they bark at me. I am almost out at heels. Fight till the last gasp. Here is my journey's end . . . Lord, what fools these mortals be!