A thousand times the worse,
to want thy light.
Love goes toward love,
as schoolboys from their books;
But love from love,
toward school with heavy looks.

Romeo: What lady is that which doth enrich

the hand Of yonder knight?

Servant: I know not, sir.

Romeo: O! she doth teach the torches to burnbright.

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!

So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,

As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

The measure done,

I'll watch her place of stand,

And, touching hers,

make blessed my rude hand.

my heart love till now?

forswear it, sight!

For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

i think i've fallen.

Alas! poor of me, for i am already dead;

stabbed with a white wench's black eye;

shot through the ear with a love-song;

the very pinof my heart cleft with

the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft.