Then Love Is Sin, And Let Me

I Am A Little World Made Cunningly.

Nothing But Man Of All Envenomed Things, Doth Work Upon Itself, With Inborn Stings.

God Himself Took A Day To Rest In, And A Good Man's Grave Is His Sabbath.

More Than Kisses, Letters Mingle Souls.

...whatever Dies Was Not Mixed Equally, If Our Two Loves Be One Or Thou And I Love So Alike That None Can Slacken, None Can Die.