I Am A Man More Sinned Against

I Love Thee; None But Thee, And Thou Deservest It

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.

An Angel; Or, If Not, An Earthly Paragon.

'by Heaven, That Thou Art Fair, Is Most Infallible True, That Thou Art Beauteous Truth Itself, That Thou Art Lovely. More Fairer Than Fair, Beautiful Than Beauteous, Truer Than Truth Itself, Have Commiseration On Thy Heroical Vassal.

Give Sorrow Words; The Grief That Does Not Speak Knits Up The O-er Wrought Heart And Bids It Break.