Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! where shall we dine? o me! what fray was here? yet tell me not, for i have heard it all. here's much to do with hate, but more with love. why, then, o brawling love! o loving hate! o any thing, of 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. dost thou not laugh?

who says this?

what does it mean? ?