With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage.
What a piece of work is a man
Friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
Fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.
Look, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east! Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops.
Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.