Whither will you transport me? let not fulness
Of my poor buried hopes come up together,
And over-charge my spirits; I am weak.
Some say (however ill) the sea and women
Are govern'd by the moon, both ebb and flow,
Both full of changes: yet to them that know,
And truly judge, these but opinions are,
And heresies to bring on pleasing war
Between our tempers, that without these were
Both void of after-love, and present fear;