Nice Customs Curtsy To Great Kings.

Your Cause Of Sorrow Must Not Be Measured By His Worth, For Then It Hath No End.

Alas, That Love, So Gentle In His View, Should Be So Tyrannous And Rough In Proof! *it’s Sad. Love Looks Like A Nice Thing, But It’s Actually Very Rough When You Experience It.*

Too Nice, And Yet Too True!

We Suffer A Lot The Few Things We Lack And We Enjoy Too Little The Many Things We Have.

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?