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Thursday, April 21, 2016

Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make females mad



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I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine



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Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love







Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties



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Love hath made thee a tame snake



Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away



Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away



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I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster



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Mistress, you know yourself, down on your knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love



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In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow



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Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love



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Men’s vows are women’s traitors



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To be wise and love, Exceeds man’s might



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



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The sight of lovers feedeth those in love



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Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee, and when I love thee not, chaos is come again



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Lovers ever run before the clock



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I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip



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I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say ‘I love you'



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I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap



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You have witchcraft in your lips



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I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you



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Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o’Sunday



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I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me



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Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.



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They do not love that do not show their love"



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O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day



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Love will not be spurred to what it loathes



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While we lie tumbling in the hay.



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When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that.



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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.



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O! she's warm.
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.



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Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon



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I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say 'I love you'



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I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty



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A heart to love, and in that heart, courage, to make love known



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A breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences.



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Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, The pretty follies that themselves commit



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Lovers ever run before the clock



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Speak low if you speak love



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Love goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps



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See where she comes apparelled like the spring.



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Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties



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My heart is ever at your service



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Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.





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