Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
I say, without characters, fame lives long.
Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation.
And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask.