Ask Me No Reason Why I Love

The Ostentation Of Our Love, Which, Left Unshown, Is Often Left Unloved.

Now Stand You On The Top Of Happy Hours, And Many Maiden Gardens Yet Unset, With Virtuous Wish Would Bear You Living Flowers, Much Liker Than Your Painted Counterfeit: So Should The Lines Of Life That Life Repair Which This, Time's Pencil, Or My Pupil Pen Neither In Inward Worth Nor Outward Fair Can Make You Live Your Self In Eyes Of Men.

Then Others For Breath Of Words Respect, Me For My Dumb Thoughts, Speaking In Effect.

How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear Hath Dear Religious Love Stolen From Mine Eye, As Interest Of The Dead!

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian Or An Ordinary Man Has; But I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.