The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.

It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Better conquest never canst thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against giddy, loose suggestions.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.

Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliances are relieved, Or not at all.