Come, Lady, Die To Live.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.

Sweet Are The Uses Of Adversity

Set Your Heart At Rest. The Fairyland Buys Not The Child Of Me.

Love Denied Blights The Soul We Owe To God.

Haply For I Am Black, And Have Not Those Soft Parts Of Conversation That Chamberers Have; Or For I Am Declined Into The Vale Of Years—yet That’s Not Much— She’s Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her. O Curse Of Marriage, That We Can Call These Delicate Creatures Ours And Not Their Appetites! I Had Rather Be A Toad And Live Upon The Vapor Of A Dungeon Than Keep A Corner In The Thing I Love For Others’ Uses. Yet ’tis The Plague Of Great Ones; Prerogatived Are They Less Than The Base. ’tis Destiny Unshunnable, Like Death.