Hereditary sloth instructs me.
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.
I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge.
No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.
Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.