Though Authority Be A Stubborn Bear, Yet

For Brutus Is An Honourable Man; So Are They All, All Honourable Men.

Rumour Doth Double, Like The Voice And Echo, The Numbers Of The Feared.

To Show An Unfelt Sorrow Is An Office Which The False Man Does Easy.

O, Had I But Followed The Arts!

Love Is A Smoke Raised With The Fume Of Sighs; Being Purged, A Fire Sparkling In Lovers' Eyes; Being Vexed, A Sea Nourished With Loving Tears. What Is It Else? A Madness Most Discreet, A Choking Gall, And A Preserving Sweet. *here’s What Love Is: A Smoke Made Out Of Lovers' Sighs. When The Smoke Clears, Love Is A Fire Burning In Your Lover’s Eyes. If You Frustrate Love, You Get An Ocean Made Out Of Lovers' Tears. What Else Is Love? It’s A Wise Form Of Madness. It’s A Sweet Lozenge That You Choke On.*