I have of late
--
but wherefore I know not
--
lost all my mirth,
forgone 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 brave o'erhanging firmament,
this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,
why,
it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation
of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man!
how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty!
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!
the paragon of animals!
And yet,
to me,
what is this quintessence of dust?
man delights not me:
no,
nor woman neither,
--
nor woman neither....

I remember studying Rosencrantz and Guildernstern are Dead; theatre of the absurd. My degree is in literature.