Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.

Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.

If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage.

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.

For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.

Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.

Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest,hurts the deepest,but feels the strongest