I Find No Abhorring In

The Heavens Rejoice In Motion, Why Should I Abjure My So Much Loved Variety.

Can There Be Worse Sickness, Than To Know That We Are Never Well, Nor Can Be So?

To An Incompetent Judge I Must Not Lie, But I May Be Silent; To A Competent I Must Answer.

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.

Let Man's Soul Be A Sphere, And Then, In This, The Intelligence That Moves, Devotion Is.