Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips

By Being Seldom Seen, I Could Not Stir But Like A Comet I Was Wondered At.

The Thing Of Courage As Rous'd With Rage Doth Sympathise, And, With An Accent Tun'd In Self-same Key, Retorts To Chiding Fortune.

I Will Through And Through Cleanse The Foul Body Of Th' Infected World, If They Will Patiently Receive My Medicine.

On Your Eyelids Crown The God Of Sleep, Charming Your Blood With Pleasing Heaviness, Making Such Difference 'twixt Wake And Sleep As Is The Difference Betwixt Day And Night The Hour Before The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.