Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. *Here’s what love is: a smoke made out of lovers' sighs. When the smoke clears, love is a fire burning in your lover’s eyes. If you frustrate love, you get an ocean made out of lovers' tears. What else is love? It’s a wise form of madness. It’s a sweet lozenge that you choke on.*

Love yourself; and in that love not unconsidered leave your honor.

Love is a spirit all compact of fire.

On pain of death, no person be so bold.

An overflow of good converts to bad.

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

I was adored once too.