I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster
It is silliness to live when to live is torment.
This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.
Love reasons without reason.
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty!