Speak low, if you speak love.
O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!