Hereditary sloth instructs me.

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.

The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.