Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.

How now, wit! Whither wander you?

The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.

Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.

Why, thou deboshed fish thou...Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?

My love is as a fever, longing still.