Alexander died, Alexander was buried,

Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth;

of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted,

might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,

Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!