[Male voice]
Why are you standing here all alone in front of the
Gates and moaning to yourself over your misfortune?

Why are you standing here, alone, in front of the gates?

[Male voice 2]
When the wars are done
The poet speaks with equal persuasiveness
On the wastes and misery that follow great conflicts
And pleads for tranquil times

[Male Voice 2]
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair
Which like two spirits do suggest me still
The better angel is a man right fair
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill

[Male Voice 3]
How many make the hour full complete;
How many hours bring about the day;
How many days will finish up the year;
How many years a mortal man may live
When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I contemplate;
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean:
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years
Pass'd over to the end they were created
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!