Time does not have the same appeal for every one
Downy sleep, death's counterfeit.
There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable.
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.