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Monday, April 18, 2016

Speak low if you speak love



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I would not wish any companion in the world but you



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She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them






O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.



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When daffodils begin to peer, 
With heigh! the doxy over the dale, 
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; 
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.



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Was ever woman in this humour wooed? 
Was ever woman in this humour won?



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Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; 
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.



If music be the food of love, play on, bülent boz


If music be the food of love, play on



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There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned



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That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, 
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.



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Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by



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Is she not passing fair?



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This bud of love by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet



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Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short minute gives me in her sight



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



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The stroke of death is as a lovers pinch, Which hurts and is desired



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She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won



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Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, 
I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world 
To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: 
We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns.



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Thy tongue 
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, 
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 
With ravishing division, to her lute.



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If music be the food of love, play on.



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Journey's end in lovers meeting.






Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight



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Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move his aides, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love



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