Zounds! I Was Never So Bethumped With

To You Your Father Should Be As A God; One That Composed Your Beauties, Yea, And One To Whom You Are But As A Form In Wax, By Him Imprinted, And Within His Power To Leave The Figure Or Disfigure It.

There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings.

If To Do Were As Easy As To Know What Were Good To Do, Chapels Had Been Churches, And Poor Men's Cottage Princes' Palaces.

Yon Grey Lines That Fret The Clouds Are Messengers Of Day.

Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One.