CHAPTER VII 



WEEDS 



" I will go root away 

 The noisome weeds, that without profit suck 

 The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. 



***** =^ 



" The whole land 

 Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers choked up, 

 Her fruit-trees all unpruned, her hedges ruined." 



Shakespeare, " Richard II.' 



