Alas, how love can trifle with itself!

They are but beggars that can count their worth.

Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.

This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.

For it falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us While it was ours.

It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold.

Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.