We Love And Understand Talent; We Wish

More Than Kisses, Letters Mingle Souls.

When One Man Dies, One Chapter Is Not Torn Out Of The Book, But Translated Into A Better Language.

That Thou Remember Them, Some Claim As Debt; I Think It Mercy, If Thou Wilt Forget.

Sweetest Love, I Do Not Go, For Weariness Of Thee, Nor In Hope The World Can Show A Fitter Love For Me; But Since That I Must Die At Last, 'tis Best, To Use My Self In Jest Thus By Feign'd Deaths To Die.

Come Live With Me, And Be My Love, And We Will Some New Pleasures Prove Of Golden Sands, And Crystal Brooks, With Silken Lines, And Silver Hooks.