What relish is in this? How runs the stream?
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep.
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! (IV. i)
Well, I’ll put it on and I will dissemble myself in’t,
and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in
such a gown (IV.ii)
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes (IV.iii)