Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.
When I waked, I cried to dream again
No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.
Love yourself; and in that love not unconsidered leave your honor.
Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.
Who is here so vile that will not love his country?