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.
Tis love in love that makes the sport.
But as when an authentic watch is shown, Each man winds up and rectifies his own, So in our very judgments.
Joy never feasts so high as when the first course is of misery.
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?