All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may.

Through tattered clothes great vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.

What fates impose, that men must needs abide; it boots not to resist both wind and tide.

And Caesar shall go forth.

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Nature does require her times of preservation.

To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.