Love is made with a vague regret. Farewell love, and all thy laws for ever. The first crime compels us to do more. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy.
A wounded bird, that hath but one imperfect wing to soar upon. When love once pleads admission into our hearts.
For quickly comes such knowledge, that his heart was darkened with her shadow. But of all pains, the greatest pain is not to love, but to love in vain. Fault for all to go around. Heaven becomes drowsy in its harmony.
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