Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, O anything, from nothing first create, O heavy lightness! Serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Act 1. Scene 1. 175-182
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
