Date: 1594

"Now let hot Etna cool in Sicily, / And be my heart an ever-burning hell."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"This poor right hand of mine / Is left to tyrannize upon my breast, / Who, when my heart, all mad with misery, / Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, / Then thus I thump it down."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"Wound it [the heart] with sighing, girl; kill it with groans, / Or get some little knife between thy teeth / And just against thy heart make thou a hole, / That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall / May run into that sink and, soaking in, / Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, / That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart / Than foemen's marks upon his battered shield, / But yet so just that he will not revenge."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"My heart is not compact of flint nor steel"

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"Aaron will have his soul black like his face."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, / That blabbed them with such pleasing eloquence, / Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage / Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung / Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"Burgundy / Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects / Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"Her virtues gracèd with external gifts / Do breed love's settled passions in my heart."

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

Date: 1594

"A far more glorious star thy soul will make / Than Julius Caesar or bright--"

— Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)