Love Is . . .

Were All The Letters Sun, I Could Not See One.

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Death Is My Son-in-law. Death Is My Heir. My Daughter He Hath Wedded. I Will Die, And Leave Him All. Life, Living, All Is Death’s.

The Hand Of Little Employment Hath The Daintier Sense.

My Chastity's The Jewel Of Our House, Bequeathed Down From Many Ancestors.