The man that hath no music in himself
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else.
O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
Now my charms are all o'erthrown.
A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.