I Shall Die Reading; Since My Book

Who Knows His Virtues Name Or Place, Hath None.

Filled With Her Love, May I Be Rather Grown Mad With Much Heart, Than Idiot With None.

Religion Is Not A Melancholy, The Spirit Of God Is Not A Damper.

So In A Voice, So In A Shapeless Flame, Angels Affect Us Often.

This Extasie Doth Unperplex (we Said) And Tell Us What We Love, Wee See By This, It Was Not Sexe, Wee See, We Saw Not What Did Move: But As All Severall Soules Contain Mixture Of Things, They Know Not What, Love, These Mixt Souls, Doth Mixe Againe. Loves Mysteries In Soules Doe Grow, But Yet The Body Is His Booke.