He's Mad That Trusts In The Tameness

And Yet, By Heaven, I Think My Love As Rare As Any She Belied With False Compare.

I Cannot Do It Without Comp[u]ters.

I Have Drunk And Seen The Spider.

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.

Plain And Not Honest Is Too Harsh A Style.