All lovers swear more performance than they are able

The truest poetry is the most feigning;and lovers are given to poetry; and what they swear in poetrymay be said, as lovers, they do feign.

All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged a fire sparkling in lovers eyes, being vexed a sea nourished with lovers tears, What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall and a perserving sweet.

I swear 'tis better to be lowly born,And range with humble livers in content,Than to be perked up in a glistering grief,And wear a golden sorrow.

Journeys end in lovers' meeting; every wise man's son doth know