Posted: October 29, 2008
A mote it is to trouble the mind’s eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the Sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune’s empire stands
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
William Shakespeare: Hamlet 1.1