Never Shame To Hear What You Have

I Have Nothing Of Woman In Me; Now From Head To Foot I Am Marble-constant.

Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feelings As To Sight?

Thyself And Thy Belongings Are Not Thine Own So Proper, As To Waste Thyself Upon Thy Virtues, They On Thee. Heaven Doth With Us As We With Torches Do, Not Light Them For Themselves; For If Our Virtues Did Not Go Forth Of Us 't Were All Alike As If We Had Them Not. Spirits Are Not Finely Touch'd But To Fine Issues; Nor Nature Never Lends The Smallest Scruple Of Her Excellence, But, Like A Thrifty Goddess, She Determines Herself The Glory Of A Creditor - Both Thanks And Use.

When The Mind's Free, The Body's Delicate.

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World With Vilest Worms To Dwell: Nay, If You Read This Line, Remember Not The Hand That Writ It, For I Love You So, That I In Your Sweet Thoughts Would Be Forgot, If Thinking On Me Then Should Make You Woe. O! If, I Say, You Look Upon This Verse When I Perhaps Compounded Am With Clay, Do Not So Much As My Poor Name Rehearse; But Let Your Love Even With My Life Decay; Lest The Wise World Should Look Into Your Moan, And Mock You With Me After I Am Gone.