By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.
To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.
Thy words, I grant are bigger, for I wear not, my dagger in my mouth.
I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume