The Heavens Forbid But That Our Loves

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

... The Spring, The Summer, The Chilling Autumn, Angry Winter, Change Their Wonted Liveries; And The Mazed World By Their Increase, Now Knows Not Which Is Which.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

Merciful Heaven, Thou Rather With Thy Sharp And Sulphurous Bolt Splits The Unwedgeable And Gnarled Oak Than The Soft Myrtle; But Man, Proud Man, Dressed In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured His Glassy Essence--like An Angry Ape Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven As Makes The Angels Weep; Who, With Our Spleens, Would All Themselves Laugh Mortal.