Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass...
Enough no more; Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.
Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode: But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you, till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!