Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.

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

And in some perfumes there is more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound.

Which means she to deceive, father or mother?

Hate pollutes the mind.