Love Is . . . A Madness

A Heaven On Earth I Have Won By Wooing Thee.

If Fortune Torments Me, Hope Contents Me.

If Little Faults Proceeding On Distemper Shall Not Be Winked At, How Shall We Stretch Our Eye When Capital Crimes, Chewed, Swallowed, And Digested, Appear Before Us?

All Is Well Ended If This Suit Be Won. That You Express Content; Which We Will Pay, With Strife To Please You, Day Exceeding Day.

Benvolio: What Sadness Lengthens Romeo's Hours? Romeo: Not Having That, Which, Having, Makes Them Short.