Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, [you] froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart [as] great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength [as] weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming [to be] most which we indeed least are.