I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all myÂ
mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes soÂ
heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth,Â
seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, theÂ
air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majesticalÂ
roof fretted with golden fire- why, it appeareth nothingÂ
to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What aÂ
piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite inÂ
faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! inÂ
action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! theÂ
beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And yet to me whatÂ
is this quintessence of dust?Â
Hamlet, Act II.ii.Â
