And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd
To some kind of men their graces serve them but as enemies.
The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
In thy foul throat thou liest.
Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.