Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine

Season Your Admiration For A While.

The Weight Of This Sad Time We Must Obey, Speak What We Feel, Not What We Ought To Say. The Oldest Hath Borne Most: We That Are Young Shall Never See So Much, Nor Live So Long.

Have I Thought Long To See This Morning’s Face, And Doth It Give Me Such A Sight As This?

Trifles Light As Air Are To The Jealous Confirmations Strong As Proofs Of Holy Writ.

Love Will Not Be Spurred To What It Loathes