I Would Not Wish Any Companion In

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

The Heavens Forbid But That Our Loves And Comforts Should Increase Even As Our Days Do Grow!

That Is My Home Of Love: If I Have Ranged, Like Him That Travels I Return Again, Just To The Time, Not With The Time Exchanged.

Death Is My Son-in-law. Death Is My Heir. My Daughter He Hath Wedded. I Will Die, And Leave Him All. Life, Living, All Is Death’s.

O, Men's Vows Are Women's Traitors! All Good Seeming, By Thy Revolt, O Husband, Shall Be Thought Put On For Villainy, Not Born Where't Grows, But Worn A Bait For Ladies.