Nurse: The life of man entire is misery:
He finds no resting place, no haven from calamity.
But something other dearer still than life
The darkness hides and mist encompasses;
We are proved luckless lovers of this thing
That glitters in the underworld: no man
Can tell us of the stuff of it, expounding
What is, and what is not: we know nothing of it.
Idly we drift, on idle stories carried.
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