"I have of late- but wherefore I know not- lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises; and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this mighty o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire; why it appears no other thing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a God! The beauty of the world, paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor women neither, nor women neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so."
Act II Scene II