Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.
They were devils incarnate.
Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear
Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service