We have some salt of our youth in us.

Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

Few love to hear the sins they love to act.

Tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death.

To weep is to make less the depth of grief.

If ever (as that ever may be near) you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, then shall you know the wounds invisible that love's keen, arrows make.