“Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.”

“Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.”

“Such stuff as madmen tongue.”

“That he's mad, 'tis true,'tis true 'tis pity,And pity 'tis, 'tis true—a foolish figure,”

“This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.”

“Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world; now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the dayWould quake to look on.”

“Haply for I am black,And have not those soft parts of conversationThat chamberers have; or for I am declinedInto the vale of years—yet that’s not much— She’s gone. I am abused, and my reliefMust be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,That we can call these delicate creatures oursAnd not their appetites! I had rather be a toadAnd live upon the vapor of a dungeonThan keep a corner in the thing I loveFor others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones;Prerogatived are they less than the base.’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.”