Why, thou owest god a death.
... And death unloads thee.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.
Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.