The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind.

Ere I Could Make Thee Open Thy White Hand, And Clap Thyself My Love; Then Didst Thou Utter, I Am Your's For Ever!

Never; He Will Not: Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety: Other Women Cloy The Appetites They Feed: But She Makes Hungry Where Most She Satisfies.

Hide Not Thy Poison With Such Sugar'd Words