Madness

To expostulate
What artistry should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief: my noble friends, i am mad:
Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
But let that go.

 

…More matter, with less art.

 

 … I swear I use no art at all.

That I am mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
But farewell it, for I will use no art.
Mad let us grant me, then: and now remains
That we find out the cause of this effect,

Gentle cousins, computers hath made me mad and stayed me from my course, but no more!

Tomorrow will find me in the studio.