So Get The Start Of The Majestic

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

They Do Not Love That Do Not Show Their Love. The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth. Love Is A Familiar. Love Is A Devil. There Is No Evil Angel But Love.

He Makes A July's Day Short As December.

That Which In Mean Men We Entitle Patience Is Pale Cold Cowardice In Noble Breasts.