To An Incompetent Judge I Must Not

Dull Sublunary Lovers' Love (whose Soul Is Sense) Cannot Admit Absence, Because It Doth Remove Those Things Which Elemented It.

In The First Minute That My Soul Is Infused, The Image Of God Is Imprinted In My Soul; So Forward Is God In My Behalf, And So Early Does He Visit Me.

As Virtuous Men Pass Mildly Away, And Whisper To Their Souls To Go, Whilst Some Of Their Sad Friends Do Say, The Breath Goes Now, And Some Say No.

Sweetest Love, I Do Not Go, For Weariness Of Thee, Nor In Hope The World Can Show A Fitter Love For Me; But Since That I Must Die At Last, 'tis Best, To Use My Self In Jest Thus By Feign'd Deaths To Die.

My Face In Thine Eye, Thine In Mine Appears, And True Plain Hearts Do In The Faces Rest; Where Can We Find Two Better Hemispheres, Without Sharp North, Without Declining West? Whatever Dies, Was Not Mix'd Equally; If Our Two Loves Be One, Or, Thou And I Love So Alike, That None Do Slacken, None Can Die.