LOVE,-continued.

Still harping on my daughter:-yet he knew me not at first; he said, I was a fishmonger: He is far gone, far gone.

Ever till now,

When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.

All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer,
With sighs of love.

H. ii. 2.

M. M. ii. 2.

M. N. iii. 2.

They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess,

I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.

R. J. ii. 6.

Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor mine heart,
That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious
To have mistrusted her.

Soft, let us see ;

Cym. v. 5.

Write, "Lord have mercy upon us" on these three;
They are infected, in the heart it lies;

They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes.

L. L. v. 2.

A lean cheek,—a blue eye, and sunken,- -an unquestionable spirit, a beard neglected:-Then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. A. Y. iii. 2.

If he love her not,

And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,

But keep a farm and carters.

O then, give pity

To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose;
That seeks not to find what her search implies,
But, riddle-like, live sweetly where she dies.

He is far gone, far gone: and truly in my
suffered much extremity for love; very near this.
Here comes the lady.-O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.
A lover may bestride the gossamers
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall.

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,

H. ii. 2..

A. W. i. 3.

youth I H. ii. 2.

R. J. ii. 6.

LOVE,-continued.

Feed on her damask'd cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat, like Patience on a monument,

Siniling at grief.

However we do praise ourselves.
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,

Than women's are.

We men may say more, swear more: but indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

T. N. ii. 4.

T. N. ii. 4.

T. N. ii. 4.

O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd
(Her sweet perfections,) with one self king!-
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with bowers.

In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state,
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.

T. N. i. 1.

M. W. v. 5.

I have done penance for contemning love;
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs,
For in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.

T.G. ii. 4.

I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, I love you; then, if you urge me further than to say, Do you in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; i' faith do, and so clap hands, and a bargain. H.V v. 2.

She, sweet lady, dotes,

Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,

Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

So loving to my mother,

M. N. i. 1

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven,

Visit her face too roughly.

H. i. 2.

Hang him, truant; there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: if he be sad, he wanta

money.

M.A. iii. ?

LOVE,-continued.

R. II. iii. 2.

Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
Turas to the sourest and most deadly hate.
It is the show and seal of nature's truth,
Where love's strong passion is impressed in youth.

To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
I lov'd Ophelia; forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum.

A. W. i. 3.
Poems.

My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants.

Why, man, she is mine own;

H. v. 1.

H. VI. PT. II. iii. 2.

And I as rich in having such a jewel,
As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl,
The water, nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
Would I not undergo for one calm look?
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd,

T. G. ii. 4.

When women cannot love where they're beloved. T. G. v. 4.
Go to; it is a plague

That Cupid will impose for my neglect

Of his almighty dreadful little might.

Well; I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;

Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. L. L. iii. 1.

Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter

In such a righteous fashion as do,

Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners,

I must advance the colours of my love,

And not retire.

With adorations, and with fertile tears,

M. W. iii. 4.

With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. T. N. i. 5.

How now?

Even so quickly may one catch the plague?
Methinks, I feel this youth's perfections,
With an invisible and subtle stealth,
To creep in at mine eyes.

A murd'rous guilt shows not itself more noon
Than love that would seem hid; love's night is

Fie, Fie! how wayward is this foolish love,
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!

T. N. i. 5.

soon.

T. N. iii. 1.

T. G. i. 2.

LOVE,-continued.

What? do I love her,

That I desire to hear her speak again,

And feast upon her eyes?

M.M. ii. 2.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Drawn in the flattering table of her eye!
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!
And quarter'd in her heart!

A. Ci. 1.

K. J. ii. 2.

They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs cannot part them.

Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,

Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

Love will suspect where is no cause of fear;

A. Y. v. 2.

R. J. i. 1.

And there not fear where it should most distrust. Poems.

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,

Should, without eyes, see path-ways to his will! R. J. i. 1.
Were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,

Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force and knowledge,
More than was ever man's,-I would not prize them,
Without her love: for her, employ them all;

Commend them, and condemn them, to her service,
Or to their own perdition.

W. T. iv. 3.

If thou be'st valiant, as (they say) base men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures, more than is native to them,-listen to me.

I saw Othello's visage in his mind;
And to his honours and his valiant parts,
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.

O. ii. 1.

O. i. 3.

M. V. iii. 2.

Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.

Thou art most rich, being poor;

Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd.
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon.

K. L. i. 1.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;

And therefore thou may'st think of my 'haviour light:
But trust me, gentlemen, I'll prove more true

Than those that have more cunning to be strange.

R. J. ii. 2.

Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy?
Love's invisible soul.

R. J. v. 1.

T. C. iii. 1.

Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground,
The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun.
H.VI. PT. III. iii. 3.

First you have learn'd like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a robinred-breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.

Holy St. Francis, what a change is here!
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine

Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
How much salt water thrown away in waste,
To season love, that of it doth not taste!
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
Thy old groans ring yet in my antient ears;
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline;-
And art thou chang'd?

A kind of wick, or snuff, that will abate it:

T. G. ii. 1.

R. J. ii. 3.

There lives within the very flame of love

I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,

H. iv. 7.

So thou wilt woo: but, else, not for the world. R. J. iii. 2.

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

"

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ;
And I lov'd her that she did pity them.

R. J. ii. 2.

O. i. 3.