I Have Unclasp'd To Thee The Book

I And My Bosom Must Debate Awhile, And Then I Would No Other Company.

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

Thou Knowest, Winter Tames Man, Woman, And Beast.

Therefore, To Be Possess'd With Double Pomp, To Guard A Title That Was Rich Before, To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily, To Throw A Perfume On The Violet, To Smooth The Ice, Or Add Another Hue Unto The Rainbow, Or With Taper-light To Seek The Beauteous Eye Of Heaven To Garnish, Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess.

O Love, Be Moderate, Allay Thy Ecstasy, In Measure Rain Thy Joy, Scant This Excess!