I'll Have No Husband, If You Be

Things Done Well And With A Care, Exempt Themselves From Fear.

There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murder In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell.

Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She; The Heaven Such Grace Did Lend Her, That She Might Admired Be.

I, Thus Neglecting Worldly Ends, All Dedicated To Closeness And The Bettering Of My Mind.

She Cannot Love, Nor Take No Shape Nor Project Or Affection, She Is So Self-endeared