What is more miserable than discontent?
Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought.
The apparel oft proclaims the man.
You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.