My Father's Wit, And My Mother's Tongue,

Nimble Thought Can Jump Both Sea And Land.

Love Is Your Master, For He Masters You; And He That Is So Yoked By A Fool Methinks Should Not Be Chronicled For Wise.

Would I Were Dead, If God's Good Will Were So, For What Is In This World But Grief And Woe?

My Hands Are Of Your Color, But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White.

One Half Of Me Is Yours, The Other Half Is Yours, Mine Own, I Would Say; But If Mine, Then Yours, And So All Yours.