Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple Hell?

Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light

More can I bear than you dare execute.

Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.