You Take My Life When

Good Hay, Sweet Hay, Hath No Fellow.

Happy Are They That Hear Their Detractions, And Can Put Them To Mending.

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

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.

Ill Deeds Are Doubled With An Evil Word.