And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness!
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
Take pains. Be perfect.
Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.
A ministering angel shall my sister be.