1 Some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature.
2 Man's nature cannot carry Th'affliction, nor the fear.
3 Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give Thee o'er to harshness.
4 You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.
5 O ruin'd piece of nature, this great world Shall so wear out to naught.
6 How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.
7 Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: The tyranny of the open night's too rough For nature to endure.
8 Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
9 This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father: the King falls from bias of nature; there's father against child.
10 O, reason not the need: our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's.
11 Thou better know'st The offices of nature, bond of childhood, Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude; Thy half o the kingdom hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd.
12 There is means, madam: Our foster nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks; that to provoke in him Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish.
13 These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: though the wisdom of Nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects.
14 All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape; The Duke must grant me that: besides, his picture I will send far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him; and of my land, Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable.
15 Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain Which are too intrince t'unloose; smooth every passion That in the natures of their lords rebel; Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters, Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.