The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.
My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.
Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.
Alas, our frailty is the cause , not we! For, such as we are made of, such we be.
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man.