Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.