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.

Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.

Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown.

To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.

Let us kill all lawyers