Silence in love bewrays more woe Than words, though ne'er so witty: A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pity.

Cowards fear to die; but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.

Fain would I, but I dare not; I dare, and yet I may not; I may, although I care not, for pleasure when I play not.

Our passions are most like to floods and streams; The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb.

The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne; Al this mene I be love.

Amor e fogo que arde sem se ver, E ferida que doi, e nao se sente; E um contentamento descontente, E dor que desatina sem doer. E um nao querer mais que bem qu…

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.