What, Can The Devil Speak True?

He That Loves To Be Flattered Is Worthy O' The Flatterer.

But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At: I Am Not What I Am.

Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine Ear

These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

Had I No Eyes But Ears, My Ears Would Love. That Inward Beauty And Invisible; Or Were I Deaf, Thy Outward Parts Would Move Each Part In Me That Were But Sensible: Though Neither Eyes Nor Ears, To Hear Nor See, Yet Should I Be In Love By Touching Thee. 'say, That The Sense Of Feeling Were Bereft Me, And That I Could Not See, Nor Hear, Nor Touch, And Nothing But The Very Smell Were Left Me, Yet Would My Love To Thee Be Still As Much; For From The Stillitory Of Thy Face Excelling Comes Breath Perfum'd That Breedeth Love By Smelling.