I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.
O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!
Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.
The past is prologue.
I'll note you in my book of memory.