Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do.

Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire.

A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.

The past is prologue.

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.

My love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was

Under loves heavy burden do I sink. --Romeo