nature, what hadst thou to do with hate, but more with love: Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not thy friend, nor the world’s law; The world is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou fishified! Now is the fairies’