Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart. One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels Than Csar with a senate at his heels. In parts superior what advantage lies Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise 'T is but to know how little can be known To see all others' faults, and feel our own.