My love's more richer than my tongue.
Art made tongue-tied by authority.
World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things. [Act 5, Scene 2]
Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.
Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.