Make passionate my sense of hearing.
I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
Let every man be master of his time.
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.