Relationships and Family

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!

A pair of star-cross’d lovers.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve; Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time.

And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark’d I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love’s wound, And maidens call it, Love-in-idleness.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind. 9

Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.

Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth.

So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, Found truth in all but one; I, in twelve thousand, none. God save the king! Will no man say, amen?

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such a she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.

But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain.

Alas, how love can trifle with itself!

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

Julia: They do not love that do not show their love. Lucetta: O! they love least that let men know their love.

Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.

Who woo’d in haste and means to wed at leisure.

Kiss me, Kate, we will be married o’ Sunday.

Was ever woman in this humor woo’d? Was ever woman in this humor won?

Was ever woman in this humor woo’d? Was ever woman in this humor won?

Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.

“Fondling,” she saith, “since I have hemm’d thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain, or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.”

“Fondling,” she saith, “since I have hemm’d thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain, or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.”

Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.