How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
A very honest woman but something given to lie
O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.
Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth