Ye olde Shakespeare

(XXII)

(...) Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gav'st me mine, not to give back again.

(XL)

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, than thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. (...)

(XLIII)

(...) All days are night to see till I see thee,
And night bright days, when dreams do show thee.

(LXXI)

(...) Nay, if you read this line, remember not
the hand that writ it; for I love you so,
that in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe. (...)