So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.

No, I Will Be The Pattern Of All Patience; I Will Say Nothing.

The Foole Doth Thinke He Is Wise, But The Wiseman Knowes Himselfe To Be A Foole.

My Love Admits No Qualifying Dross

Is It Possible He Should Know What He Is, And Be That He Is?