You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast.
Come not within the measure of my wrath.
You are strangely troublesome.
Tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fear of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.
O comfort-killing night, image of hell, Dim register and notary of shame, Black stage for tragedies and murders fell, Vast sin-concealing chaos, nurse of blame!