Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
Make passionate my sense of hearing.
Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water.
We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.