“Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joyBe heaped like mine, and that thy skill be moreTo blazon it, then sweeten with thy breathThis neighbours air, and let rich music’s tongueUnfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.”

“Let thy fortune be what it will, 'tis thy mind alone that makes thee poor or rich, miserable or happy.”

“So thou being rich in Will add to thy WillOne will of mine to make thy large Will more.Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;Think all but one, and me in that one, Will”

“Let thy discontents be thy secrets”

“Thy's bleeding heart confides in the With one's thoughts and troubles Let the kiss thy's lips To ease thou's pain Thy am thou's comfort Lie thou's head on mine pillow Of soft consolation And let the drown Thou's sorrow Away”

“I could a tale unfold whose lightest wordWould harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,Thy knotted and combined locks to part,And each particular hair to stand on endLike quills upon the fretful porpentine.But this eternal blazon must not beTo ears of flesh and blood.List, list, O list!”