“So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.”

“Sweets to the sweet, farewell! I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid, And not have strewed thy grave.”

“If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;And all this day an unaccustom'd spiritLifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.I dreamt my lady came and found me dead—Strange dream, that gives a dead man leaveto think!—And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,That I revived, and was an emperor.Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!”

“If music be the food of love, play on;Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.That strain again! it had a dying fall:O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,That breathes upon a bank of violets,Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,That, notwithstanding thy capacityReceiveth as the sea, nought enters there,Of what validity and pitch soe'er,But falls into abatement and low price,Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancyThat it alone is high fantastical.”

“And all this day an unaccustomed spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.”

“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,So stumblest on my counsel?*Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*”

“A kiss, long as my exile, as sweet as my revenge.”