Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
William ShakespeareWho's there?
William ShakespeareLo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
More flow'rs I noted, yet I none could see
But sweet or color it had stol'n from thee.
The worst was this: my love was my decay.
William ShakespeareThe very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
William ShakespeareTherefore love moderately: long love doth so;
Too swift as tardy as too slow.
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do:
They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to dispair.
In love?
Out-
Of love?
Out of her favour where I am in love.
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