This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.

Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Time is the king of men.

By God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.