So they loved as love in twain Had the essence but in one; Two distinct, divisions none.
My only love sprung from my only hate.
Some falls the means are happier to rise.
Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.
Out of her favour, where I am in love.
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.