If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!
Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.
Seek happy nights to happy days.W
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, and in the calmest and most stillest night, with all appliances and means to boot, deny it to a king?