Ill follow thee and make a heaven of hellTo die upon the hand I love so well.

If love be rough with you be rough with love. Prick love for pricking and you beat love down.

For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me

Sonnet 130My mistress eyes are nothing like the sunCoral is far more red than her lips redIf snow be white why then her breasts are dunIf hairs be wires black wires grow on her head.I have seen roses damaskd red and whiteBut no such roses see I in her cheeksAnd in some perfumes is there more delightThan in the breath that from my mistress reeks.I love to hear her speak yet well I knowThat music hath a far more pleasing soundI grant I never saw a goddess goMy mistress when she walks treads on the ground And yet by heaven I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

O hereWill I set up my everlasting restAnd shake the yoke of inauspicious starsFrom this world-wearied flesh. Eyes look your lastArms take your last embrace and lips O youThe doors of breath seal with a righteous kissA dateless bargain to engrossing death

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.

Sweets to the sweet.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange

Do not swear by the moon for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek