Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Affection is a coal that must be cooled; else, suffered, it will set the heart on fire.
I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.
What is more miserable than discontent?
Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live