Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.

Who is so firm that can't be seduced?

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

Love`s reason`s without reason

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

Oh what fools we mortals are.

I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme. . .