An envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
Is she not passing fair?
Thou lump of foul deformity!