Tis love in love that makes the sport.
I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?
Expectation makes a blessing dear. Heaven were not heaven if we knew what it was.
Out upon it, I have loved Three whole days together; And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.
'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear.
Opportunity, to statesmen, is as the just degree of heat to chemists; it perfects all the work.