Let the frame of things disjoint
After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well
…we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams And makes our faces vizards to our hearts
We have scorched the snake, not killed it; She’ll close, and be herself, whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth
..night’s yawning peal
Come, sealing night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day
…full of scorpions is my mind…!
Let the world shatter into pieces
We have wounded our enemies, but haven’t defeated them. If we’re not careful, they’ll recover and come back to attack us.
Following a difficult, painful life death now brings him peace
The first sounds of the night-time
Let it get dark, so the sun’s rays are blocked and disappear
We’ll have to pretend to be pleasant and praise people, and mask what we’re really feeling.
I’m torn apart by my thoughts
