Who Covets More Is Evermore A Slave.

Hell Is No Other But A Soundlesse Pit, Where No One Beame Of Comfort Peeps In It.

Thou Art My Life, My Love, My Heart, The Very Eyes Of Me: And Hast Command Of Every Part To Live And Die For Thee.

Bid Me Despair, And I'll Despair,under That Cypress Tree;or Bid Me Die, And I Will Daree'en Death, To Die For Thee.

Go To Your Banquet Then, But Use Delight So As To Rise Still With An Appetite.

And As This Round (ring) Is Nowhere Found To Flaw, Or Else To Sever. So Let Our Love As Endless Prove And Pure As Gold Forever.