By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be mekancholy.
But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise
Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.
A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine.
Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
For now they kill me with a living death.