So fair and foul a day i had not seen.

What else may hap, to time I will commit.

I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

Journeys end in lovers meeting.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!

But whate'er I am, nor I nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased 'til he be eased With being nothing.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.