To be, or not to be, that is the question.
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; he tires betimes that spurs too fast.
All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feelings as to sight?