Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas, their love may be call'd [appetite,]—
No motion of the liver, but the palate,—
That [suffer] surfeit, cloyment and revolt;
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can [digest] as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.