Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet

Death lies on her like an untimely frost.

I understand a fury in your words But not your words.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.

Omittance is no quittance.