Sweetheart, when you walk my way, be it dark or be it day. What! Keep a week away? Seven days and nights?
If you give up your quiet life, the bow of Cupid will lose its power. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy. Love laid his sleepless head on a thorny rose bed. With life all other passions fly.
I have heard of reasons manifold why love must be blind. Endless torments dwell around and within you.
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