Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
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.