Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world, And where thou art not, desolation.

While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.

Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.