Speak Comfortable Words.

Love Is . . . A Madness Most Discreet

Thou Weedy Elf-skinned Canker-blossom!

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

It Is A Heretic That Makes The Fire, Not She Which Burns In It.

For I Have Sworn Thee Fair, And Thought Thee Bright, Who Art As Black As Hell, As Dark As Night.