I Am Not Only Witty In Myself,

But The Strong Base And Building Of My Love Is As The Very Centre Of The Earth, Drawing All Things To It.

Diseased Nature Oftentimes Breaks Forth In Strange Eruptions.

Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come; Love Alters Not With His Brief Hours And Weeks, But Bears It Out Even To The Edge Of Doom. If This Be Error And Upon Me Prov'd, I Never Writ, Nor No Man Ever Lov'd.

But Let The Frame Of Things Disjoint, Both The Worlds Suffer, Ere We Will Eat Our Meal In Fear, And Sleep In The Affliction Of These Terrible Dreams That Shake Us Nightly.

Before, I Loved Thee As A Brother, John, But Now, I Do Respect Thee As My Soul.