But let the frame of things disjoint, Both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly: better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.
It cannot Be call’d our mother, but our grave: where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks, that rent the air, Are made, not mark’d; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy; the dead man’s knell Is there scarce ask’d for who; and good men’s lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken.
There are no more uses of "ecstasy" in the play.
Show samples from other sources
the agony and the ecstasy of intense sports competition
The sculpture is called "The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa."